


A Wizard's Misgivings

by jilliancares



Category: Phan, dan and phil
Genre: AU, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Dan Howell - Freeform, HP AU, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, phanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell’s entire family has been in Slytherin, and there’s no doubt he’s supposed to end up there too. Phil Lester does’t exactly know what to do when he finds himself liking boys, so he’s usually just horrendously mean to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dan had been immensely relieved when his letter had finally come. He’d of course known that he was going to Hogwarts, it was obvious, seeing as his entire family was made of wizards, and even he’d shown magic ability. But still, late at night he’d sit in his bed and wonder if he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t magical enough. He’d been too ashamed to admit these fears to his family, as they were all as scathing as any Slytherin could be. And it was obvious where Dan was supposed to end up too, but he wasn’t sure if he was good enough. He wasn’t as cunning as his brothers, wasn’t good at pulling any tricks in the games they played, and he certainly never won. Furthermore, whenever they played games as teams, he was much too worried about his teammate, while everyone else still played as if it was an everyone against everyone game. Dan worried that he’d never be able to get into Slytherin.

He hadn’t mentioned this fear to his family either, as he wasn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t disown him if he didn’t end up in Slytherin. His whole house was decorated with colors of green and silver. It made Dan shiver uncomfortably, the thought of him ending up in a different house, with different colors.

His family was excited for him when his letter came. His older brother, Adam, had been going to Hogwarts for three years now, and Dan’s eldest brother had already graduated. They all piled around the table while Dan opened his letter, cheering and being happy for him, just as a family should. He’d received many pats on the back, and a kiss on a cheek from his mother.

“Oh, we’ll have to go to Diagon Alley!” she said excitedly, while rubbing her hand on her son’s back. “Got to get you your very own _wand_!” This, she emphasized, as Dan hadn’t been able to stop talking about it for months now. He just wanted to be able to hold the wand, one that had picked him, out of all the great wizards out there.

When they actually did go to Diagon Alley, Dan hadn’t been too interested in much of anything. He’d been there plenty times before, on trips with his mum and such, but it was fun to see all the new students, a lot of them muggle born, staring around in wonder, touching everything in sight.

“Swear they’re letting in any drop of magical blood these days,” Dan’s father muttered darkly, eyeing a small girl dressed obviously in muggle clothes, holding a wand as if it might explode on her. Dan loved his family, truly, they were the best people he knew, but he didn’t love everything about them. “They should really stick with the more accountable wizards. Ones with veins full of magic.”

Dan sighed, glaring at the ground, but doing nothing else. It wouldn’t do any good to talk to his father about it, plus he’d probably get some _look_ , as if his father was asking if he thought differently. And Dan didn’t want them to guess that he might not be cut out for Slytherin. Standing up for other people, which house’s trait was that? Gryffindor? He could _not_ be sorted to Gryffindor, his family would kill him!

“This way, dear,” his mother said, leading Dan towards the shop he’d been eyeing all his life. Ollivander was nice, if a bit weird and scary, but Dan had no clue what would happen to someone, constantly cooped up, making wands, selling wands. He figured that Ollivander was in the perfectly right state of mind for his occupation.

“Ah, Daniel Howell! I’ve been waiting to see your face around my shop. What do we have, another Slytherin in the making?” The man said, his last question kind of off-hand, as he was already trailing down the aisles, picking out boxes. Wands.  
Dan simply laughed in response, but rose to the tips of his toes as the boxes were placed in front of him.

“Any of them speak to you, my boy?” Ollivander asked. “Touch them, get a feel for them. Tell me if one wants you.”  
The wand chooses the wizard, everybody knows that, but now Dan was starting to wonder if that was all utter crap. What if none of these wands spoke to him?

Still, Dan reached out a hand, touching the first wand on the left. It was dark, probably made of hawthorn, and he knew his family would approve of that wand for him. His mother smiled at him as he touched it, but it said nothing to him, so he moved on.

He trailed his fingers down the line of wands, guessing their wood types as he went. Blackthorn. Ivory. Yew. Plenty of them he was sure his family would approve of, would look at and say ‘A true Slytherin’s wand, right there!’. Except for one of the wands, which Dan was rapidly approaching. He seemed compelled to touch it, to hold it, to get a feel for it.

 _Please let its core be dragon heartstring!_ Dan thought desperately, as he approached what he thought was a birch wand. It was lighter than all the other wands, closer to white than to brown, and it looked nothing like a wand for a Slytherin. _It looks like a gay wand,_ he thought bitterly. But if it had dragon heartstring as a core, maybe it would redeem itself.

As Dan touched the wand, his fingers grew warm, and it felt as if the wand was vibrating beneath his fingers. He confidently picked it up, and it felt perfect in his hand. It seemed to purr, to come to life with the amount of magic running through him, directing itself into the wand.

“Well, give it a wave!” Ollivander said, smiling grandly. Dan gave the wand a sharp flick, straight toward a bookshelf, and while half the books tumbled out, one floated gently towards Dan, landing on the table in front of him, the pages flipping wildly.

_Wands tend to show their user’s personality. A longer wand might indicate a loose and erratic, a grand person/style of magic, while a shorter wand could suggest a more controlled, and sharp one. And, of course, wands could even specify things such as gender and sexuality, though it is harder to discern, as most wands look similar._

Dan hastily shut the book and shoved it back to Ollivander, laughing uneasily and hoping no one else had read the passage. If his gay wand was trying to get him outted, then it wasn’t a very good wand for him.

“That wand is perfect for you!” Ollivander gushed, grabbing Dan’s outstretched hand, running his fingers over the areas where Dan’s hand met the wand. “Oh, it really likes you!”

“Twelve and a half inches, birch wood, unicorn hair core! It suits you grandly, I hope you do it well!” He continued excitedly, and Dan stepped back, stricken, while his mother handed over the galleons.

As they exited the shop, his mum ruffled his hair excitedly. “Look at that! You got yourself a wand!” Dan swallowed, hoping to hide it from his father.

When the shopping had finally been done, and Dan had been laden with robes and books and cauldrons and ingredients and so much more, they finally returned home. It was torture waiting for the first of September to come, and excitement was constantly flowing out of Dan’s entire being. When the day finally did arrive, he’d woken up at five, repacked his entire trunk, made breakfast and eaten only two bites out of nervousness, and woken up his family at seven.

“But, it doesn’t leave until eleven, dear,” his mother had said, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“I have all morning planned out,” Dan said earnestly, holding up his paper, which had every minute from now until eleven o’clock scheduled. _7:05, convince Mum that she needs to wake up immediately._

And so his family had gotten up, moving slowly, and everything had gone according to plan. They arrived for the train an hour early, just like Dan had planned, and they’d gone straight through the wall platform nine and three quarters.

“Oh, good bye Daniel, I’ll be missing you,” his mum said as he prepared to board the train, before she kissed his cheek.

“There’s my man! I’m so proud of you,” his father said, ruffling his hair. Dan was quick to run his fingers back through it carefully, seeing as it’d taken him all morning to get it right. Oh Merlin, he was so gay. Stupid wand.

Dan had followed Adam onto the train, who had threatened him when he’d tried to sit with him. And so Dan had carefully pulled his trunk to an empty carriage, and sat staring out the window. The train finally started moving, pulling out of the station, and Dan stared in wonder at the green grass and rolling hills they immediately began to see, once the station disappeared.

“Excuse me,” A voice snarled from the carriage door. Dan turned to look at the boy, who was backed up by two other boys his age. “You’re in our compartment.”

“Oh. Well, you can join me,” Dan said politely. He didn’t want to get his journey off to a bad start, and maybe this way he could make some friends. The boy laughed.

“Or,” he said conventionally, as if what he were about to suggest was a much better idea. Dan was all ears. “You could get the hell out!” he growled, and he and his friends stormed into the small room, and Dan was standing up on the bench, trying to stand taller than the other boys. They looked like they were older than him, but that might’ve just been because they seemed like giants. Or the boy he’d been talking to had, anyway.

The boy gripped Dan’s robes, right in the stomach, and tugged him forward roughly. Their bodies were pressed flush together, which was not good for Dan’s gay little body, which might have other ideas. He was blushing profusely as he looked up at the (rather attractive) glaring wizard.

“Alright?” He said, his hand still fisted in the younger’s robes. He dragged Dan to the door of the compartment, before shoving him to the floor in the hallway. His trunk quickly followed, landing on his hand and making him yelp. The other boys laughed.

Dan stood up weakly, before the compartment behind him slid open, and a kind looking witch, thankfully looking like a first year, grabbed his hand and dragged him gently into her compartment. She glared at the bullies through the window, who were still laughing uproariously, before giving them the finger. Dan, who’d never given anyone the finger before, was amazed by this eleven year old.

“Hello, I’m Louise,” she said with a smile, before grabbing Dan’s trunk and shoving it to the other end of the compartment.

“Dan,” Dan informed, a smile threatening to break out on his face.

“Don’t mind that lot,” Louise said with an eye roll. “They’re first years too, they just think that they can boss others around because they’re mean looking.” Dan did think that they, in fact, looked mean.

“That one’s my neighbor,” Louise pointed. Dan followed her finger to the tallest boy, the one who’d grabbed his robes. He had stark black hair, and fierce eyes, ones that looked incredibly mean when they were glaring. Dan didn’t doubt that the boy would be placed in Slytherin, and it made him want to get housed there even less. “His name’s Phil Lester, and he’s a Grade A jerk,” she informed. Dan nodded at this not-so-new information.

“Don’t worry about him though, because you just made friend’s with the best first year on board!” Louise giggled, and Dan couldn’t help but to laugh alongside her.

“No, I think you just did that,” Dan joked, and the rest of the train ride was full of an easy banter between the two. They were fast friends, and the conversation came easy to them. Dan couldn’t have been more thankful to make a friend so easily, but he still couldn’t get rid of the niggling of anxiety in his chest, wondering what he would do when he inevitably didn’t get sorted into Slytherin.


	2. Chapter 2

“Philly’s goin’ straight to Hufflepuff, ain’t he?” Martyn joked, ruffling his hair as he walked by. Phil quickly ran his fingers through it again, trying to ease the disruption.

“Fuck off,” Phil said, as his mother called “don’t joke!” from the kitchen.

“ _Language_ Philip,” his father said, giving him a stern look. Phil muttered an apology, glaring at the breakfast before him. His mother had given him pumpkin juice, and she _knew_ he hated pumpkin juice. He couldn’t help thinking it was some sort of threat, like he’d better get sorted right or _else_.

Phil honestly didn’t feel ready for Hogwarts. He knew what was expected of him, to follow in Martyn’s footsteps. He’d be the mean, Slytherin bully (it was obvious he was getting into Slytherin, his entire family did and he showed all the right attributes, apparently) and everyone would hate him, except for his fellow Slytherins of course. Although this was not to say that all Slytherins were bullies, or mean in any way. It was simply that Martyn was mean, and if Phil was nice, then he would make Martyn look like a ‘fucking pussy’ (in his words).

So he had to be the bad guy in his year. Martyn had threatened him with all kinds of hexes, and Phil hadn’t even known what half of them did. He expected he’d know a bit more after school started, and sure, he was eager to learn, he just wasn’t eager to be hated by half his year.

“You won’t be hated,” Martyn had said a few days earlier. Phil hadn’t expressed his fear or anything, that wouldn’t have been very Slytherin of him, but Martyn knew him well, and he could always tell when he was upset. “You’ll be feared.” Phil wasn’t sure that was much better.

“Plus,” his brother continued, “All the other firsties in your house’ll look up to you, be awed by you, and everyone in the other houses will do the same if they’re not already scared of you.”

Martyn had tried to teach him the Slytherin ‘politics’. Never show that he was worried or scared, he had to be able to master his expression into something blank. Phil already knew how to do this, of course, he’d done it throughout his entire muggle school years, never letting the bigger, taller kids know he was scared, and instead intimidating them right back. But he let Martyn tell him all about what he had to do, even if he did already know.

Phil was currently mixing his cereal around his bowl solemnly. The little marshmallows danced around, avoiding his spoon, and he rolled his eyes at the bewitched food. Usually it made him smile, and he would play along, but now he just felt annoyed.

“Oh, don’t be like that Phil,” his mum said as she walked out of the kitchen. “I’m sure you’ll get into Slytherin, and even if you don’t you’d surely end up in Ravenclaw.”

It was just like his family to think he was worried over which house he’d end up in, but whatever. He’d be away from them (well, most of them. Martyn he’d have to put up with) in just a few short hours.

–

“Don’t want to miss your train now, run along!” his mother said, pushing his back lightly, directing him towards the train. He sent her a subdued smile, but made his way forward anyway. All the other eleven year olds looked excited to finally be going to Hogwarts, and he guessed he should be too, but he simply felt annoyed. They were all squealing and talking hurriedly, everyone’s annoying voices mixing and churning into one loud horrible sound of commotion, and Phil just wanted to sit on the train and close his eyes.

He stumbled forward as a girl ran into his shoulder, rushing towards the train. “Watch it!” He barked at her, ignoring the way her eyes widened and filled with a little bit of fear. He wasn’t even trying to be scary yet, he just wanted her to watch where the hell she was going.

Phil grumbled as he climbed the steps of the train, immediately running into his brother.

“Phil, good thing you’re here, let me introduce you,” he said, grabbing Phil’s shoulder and pushing him forward slightly.

“This here is Kendall. Mark Kendall. And this great lump–”

“Hey!” interjected The Great Lump.

“–Is Jacob Frankford. But everybody calls him Franky.” Martyn said. Phil nodded at the older boys, most likely in sixth year like his brother. They seemed like giants, as Phil had never gone to school with people more than a few years older than him, and these kids were already almost adults by now.

It was after Phil looked away from the towering faces of the older kids that he saw two boys about his age standing behind them.

“This is Chris,” Mark Kendall said, indicating the scowling boy behind him. He didn’t look any happier to be here than Phil did. Maybe Phil wasn’t so out of the ordinary.

“Hi,” muttered Chris, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his muggle clothes. Phil inclined his head as a greeting, before turning as Franky began to speak.

“And this is Francis,” the older boy introduced, sidestepping and letting Francis into the limelight. He was very thin with a gaunt face, and while Phil was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold up in any fistfights, he was almost just as sure that no one would want to fight him as he looked so scary.

The next thing they knew, their older siblings were shoving them off, telling them that they should find a carriage together. Phil rolled his eyes as they set off, looking for an empty one. Or at least a semi-empty one that they could steal.

–

“Firs’ years this way!” an oaf of a man shouted, towering over all the students, waving his garbage can lid sized hands around. Phil made his way towards the giant with Chris and Francis by his sides, the two recounting the events of the train for not the first time. They seemed to think it was hilarious, the way that Phil had thrown the other boy around. It hadn’t been very hard, he was at least three inches shorter than Phil, but they were still amazed.

The truth was, Phil felt guilty for what he’d done. They hadn’t even made it to Hogwarts yet and he was already bullying people. Martyn, of course, would be immensely proud, and Phil was determined for word of this to not get back to his older brother. He didn’t want to be congratulated on something that made him feel so horrible.

“Firs’ years, gather round!” the giant called again, leading all the first years towards a great, black lake. There were a bunch of small boats docked around the side, which they all began to clamber into (“Only four to a boat!”).

“Dan Howell!” Phil heard the giant roar, a thumping sound following. Phil assumed that some poor kid just got patted on the back by the giant, and he’d be surprised if that kid wasn’t currently face down in the mud. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that! I remember yer Mum and Dad though! Still send me plenty o’ Christmas cards, them two! I was wond’rin when you’d show up here!” The man said cheerfully, before calling out some other kid’s name and hurrying away.

Phil sat across from Francis and Chris, leaving one spot open for another student. The boat next to them was full of three other girls, all talking and giggling. Their annoying voices gave Phil a headache.

“Oh Merlin, sorry Dan,” said a voice somewhere off to Phil’s left, sounding a lot like his childish neighbor. There were two figures approaching, one considerably shorter than the other. “Looks like we’ll have to sit in separate boats.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you soon,” a familiar voice sighed, before the two broke off. Louise, his neighbor, heading for the boat full of girls, and the supposed Dan Howell to his boat. And of course, it was the scrawny kid from the train.

The boy’s eyes widened as he realized which boat he was getting into, and he stood there, one foot in and one foot out, staring at the boys. On the boat next to them, the girls were immediately talking with Louise (“I’m Zoe!” “I love your hair!” “I hope we’re in the same house!”) and pushing Phil into an even worse mood.

“In or out, you numptie?” Phil said exasperatedly. Howell’s mouth fell open, and he stuttered out something that didn’t sound quite like words, before he climbed into the boat and sat as far away from Phil as possible. His hands were wrung tightly together, and his knee was bouncing nervously. Normally Phil didn’t like it when he was mean, and sometimes he did like it and came to regret it later, but something about this boy annoyed the crap out of Phil. How terrified he clearly seemed, how nervous. Something about him made Phil want to taunt and berate him. A glare fixed itself to Phil’s face.

“You’re rocking the entire boat with your dumb knee,” Phil provoked, expecting Howell to cower before him, to perhaps apologize.

Howell surprised him, however, by looking him straight in the eye, smiling, and then proceeding to bounce both of his knees. The boat, which by now had started sailing for Hogwarts on its own, was shaking horribly, all thanks to the short boy beside him.

“Stop that!” Phil hissed, and Howell shot him a glare from under his scruffy fringe.

“No.”

“You’d better stop _right now_ or else-”

“Or else what?” Howell taunted, his legs still bouncing. He didn’t look afraid at all, which was nothing like his earlier demeanor on the train.

“Or else _this_!” Phil growled, before he leapt forward, grabbed Howell by the shoulders, and shoved. Howell released an indignant kind of squeak as he tumbled backward out of the boat and splashed into the lake. Chris and Francis broke into immediate, uproarious laughter, which Phil joined them in.

Howell was splashing around in the water wildly, choking and spitting water out of his mouth. Strangled gasps emitted from the form in the water, whose head was tilted all the way back, as if desperate for air.

“Oh Merlin!” Phil said suddenly, realizing what was happening. The stupid boy couldn’t swim! What eleven year old couldn’t swim?!

Howell’s head ducked under the water before resurfacing, his breaths rattled as he tried to get air. Phil cursed as he ripped off his shoes and robe, his wand tossed on top of them, before he jumped into the lake.

It was much colder than he’d expected it to be, and his body immediately slowed slightly at the temperature. He pushed his discomfort out of mind, however, reminding himself that he would be a murderer if Howell drowned in here.

He struggled towards Howell, before wrapping his fist in the back of the boy’s robes and heaving him towards the boat. He was kicking frantically, trying to keep up with it as it sailed away, with or without them. Francis and Chris were still laughing, but now they were leaning over the back of the boat, holding out their hands and calling for Phil to hurry up.

“Kick your feet!” Phil tried to instruct the struggling boy, but it came out sort of choked as water sloshed into his mouth. Howell was clinging to him tightly, both his arms wrapped around his torso, which made it harder for Phil to kick, and he could do virtually nothing with his arms.

Thankfully Howell heard him, and he kicked his feet, helping to propel them forward. Francis leaned a little bit further out, and Phil stretched forward with one hand, the other wrapped firmly around Howell’s waist. Francis gripped his hand and pulled, and soon Chris was helping, grabbing onto Howell’s hand.

When they were finally back on the boat, Phil collapsed, drained and exhausted from carrying both himself and Howell, who was on his hands and knees, coughing violently. Phil pushed the guilt out of his mind and replaced it with disbelief and anger, because who the hell doesn’t know how to swim?

“You nearly got us killed!” Phil accused, glaring at the still-sputtering boy beside him. Phil didn’t notice that he was still covered in goosebumps, shivering just as violently as Howell was.

“ _I_ nearly got us killed? _You’re_ the one who pushed me in in the first place!” Howell shouted, his voice raspy from all the water and coughing.

“Well I thought you’d know how to swim!” Phil said, defending himself. And really, it wasn’t that out-there of an assumption. Most people their age could swim, so why wouldn’t Howell be able to?

“You shouldn’t have pushed me!”

“You should’ve listened to me!”

Howell groaned in annoyance, before sliding backwards and lifting himself onto the the bench. He glared at his shoes, but stayed silent for the rest of the journey across the lake. Phil wondered what they were going to do about being soaked.

When the boats pulled into the dock in the castle chamber, Howell hopped out immediately and stomped towards his friend, leaving a trail of water in his wake. His hair had gone a bit curly from getting wet, and Louise gasped when she saw that he was soaked, but he simply shook his head, as if to say _I’ll tell you later._

Phil doned his thankfully dry robes, before following the giant, who’d introduced himself as Hagrid, through the corridors. They ended up in front of the great hall, where an older woman was stood, looking stern. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, and was midway through giving a speech, explaining how they’d walk through the doors into the great hall to be sorted, when she paused, her eyes falling on Howell.

“Why are you so wet?” she asked, and Howell was immediately back to the stuttering.

“I-uh, um…” he started, McGonagall still looking at him fiercely, demanding an answer. Phil would’ve normally felt fine, letting the boy explain himself away without coming to the rescue, and Phil would’ve stayed out of it too, if he wasn’t equally as wet.

“He fell into the lake Professor,” Phil said, stepping forward. “And I did too. We were trying to get a better view of Hogwarts, and so we stood up to look,” he explained, hoping that she wouldn’t see right through him.

“You two should’ve been more patient, you could’ve drowned. It takes no more than ten minutes to traverse the lake, and you would’ve seen Hogwarts by then,” and with a quick flick of her wand, Phil’s clothes were heating up, steam pouring out of them, until he was completely dry. One look at Dan proved that he’d had the same treatment.

After that, she’d finished her introduction, and was then leading them into the Great Hall. The room was gigantic, and there were four long tables in it, students of all ages sitting at each. On the other side of the room was the head table, lined with all the teachers. Phil stared around in wonder, just like all the other first years, before his eyes found the ceiling. He could see the night sky, as if there weren’t any ceiling at all, and the stars shone brightly, dark clouds drifting peacefully under them here and there. _I have to learn how to do that,_ Phil thought immediately, as stars were probably one of his favorite things in existence.

The first years gathered at the front of the room, standing between two of the four tables, which he assumed were Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, due to the colors of the scarves and ties.

Before them stood a stool with a tatty old hat on it, which had a long slit near the rim. The entire hall sat silently, staring at it, and Phil wondered briefly if this was all some kind of joke, before the hat opened widely, as if the slit were a mouth, and began to sing:

_I am the Sorting Hat_

_although everybody knows that_

_and me, myself, and I alone_

_can put you where you’ll find your home!_

_Perhaps in great old Gryffindor_

_where dwell the brave at heart_

_or maybe in good ‘ol Ravenclaw_

_where everyone is smart!_

_Or shall you be in Slytherin_

_with your wit and cunning kin?_

_Or will your home be Hufflepuff_

_where you’ll easily make friends?_

The entire hall burst into a round of applause when the hat stopped singing, and Phil shared a curious look with his friends before returning his attention to the hat. Professor McGonagall pulled out a scroll and began calling people forward, placing the Sorting Hat on their heads before directing them to their new house.

Phil fought the urge to roll his eyes when Howell walked forward timidly, before sitting on the stool and placing the hat on his head. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, and his lips moved slightly, as if he were conversing with the hat, although the hat’s slit-for-a-mouth didn’t move. Suddenly Dan’s eyes popped open, as if in disbelief, and his mouth quickly followed the memo from his eyes, and he almost appeared scared.

“GRYFFINDOR!” the Sorting Hat cried, and Dan’s face fell despite the applause from his new house’s table. He slumped off the stool, handed the hat to McGonagall, and walked solemnly to his new home. Phil didn’t understand why he looked so distraught, he’d assumed the annoying boy would be in Gryffindor ever since the boat incident, but he eventually decided not to care. He shouldn’t waste his time worrying about Howell.

It wasn’t long before McGonagall was calling his name, and he was walking forward, nervous but trying to project confidence. Both his friends had already been sorted into Slytherin, and he knew quite clearly where he was hoping to go. Pretty much knew where he would go. He sat on the stool, and the hat was placed on his head, so big that it fell over his eyes.

 _Hmmm_ , a voice whispered in his mind, and Phil almost jumped out of the seat in surprise. He hadn’t expected the hat to actually talk to him.

 _Why now, this sure is rare. It isn’t often that you come across a student who could fit in any house,_ the hat continued, making Phil’s mind go blank. That was a lie! He couldn’t fit in any house! Not Gryffindor, he wasn’t brave and selfless, and especially not Hufflepuff. Just– not Hufflepuff.

The hat chuckled at his inner turmoil, his unease. _Oh, I see lots of greatness from you. You could do well in any house, I promise._

“No I couldn’t,” Phil insisted.

_You’re quite selfless, you care for the safety of others. You proved so just today, and what you did was brave as well, saving Daniel Howell from drowning. That’s quite Gryffindor of you._

“But I pushed him in! I had to save him otherwise I would’ve gotten in trouble!” Phil whispered furiously.

_Ah yes, looking out for yourself. That was a very Slytherin thing to do, but still. The Gryffindor is there._

Phil stayed silent this time, as the hat didn’t sound as if it were finished speaking.

_And you’re very Ravenclaw too. Telling the boy to kick his feet as well, that was calculating. And the excuse you made for being wet, that was some quick-thinking, witty, smart. Ravenclaw._

There wasn’t really anything bad about Ravenclaw, in Phil’s opinion, so he didn’t argue against this one. He was still aghast that the hat thought he was fit for so many houses, though.

_And Hufflepuff as well. You’re quite loyal to your brother, willing to befriend the people he wants you to, act the way he wants you to. Even if the way he wants you to act is quite Slytherin._

“Just sort me,” Phil finally demanded. “Put me in my house, please.” He held his breath as the hat hummed in his head, thinking.

 _Well, I can see quite clearly that you’d do well in any house, but I think…. Yes, in this house… You’ll be able to learn a very valuable lesson in this house. And so it better be…._ “SLYTHERIN!”

Phil finally slid off the stool, practically ripping the wretched hat from his head, before he turned towards the Slytherin table. They were all cheering for him, and he smiled slightly at his friends as they clapped and pumped their fists.

He didn’t regret letting the hat choose where he would be sorted, as Slytherin was where he’d wanted to go originally, anyway, but it was still a little bit difficult to ignore the boos and jeers from the other houses as he walked to his table. And besides, what had the hat meant, saying he’d learn a valuable lesson in this house? Just what had he gotten himself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the copious amounts of rich, strong, wonderful smelling food in front of him, Dan didn’t have much of an appetite. Instead he felt faintly sick to his stomach, his hands fastened tightly together in front of him, his eyes wide and staring at the empty plate before him. He couldn’t believe it. After all the praying, the begging and pleading, he’d failed. He’d been placed in Gryffindor.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything, Dan?” Louise said brightly from beside him. “This food is delicious!”

“It really is!” Said a boy across from him, or more like, _spit_ a boy across from him. Food rained out of his mouth as he spoke, and he was holding two forks, one in each hand. He wore square glasses, which were slipping down to the bottom of his nose, and he didn’t have a free hand to push them back up.

“Er, Troye? Con? Can someone fix my glasses?” He mumbled around the food in his mouth, and the boys on either side of him giggled. The one to the left, who had wild curls, reached over and shoved them up the other boys face. “Thanks Troye.”

Dan ignored them, falling right back into his silent misery. His family was going to despise him. Adam had already given him an incredulous look from the Slytherin table just minutes before, which Dan had stoically ignored. He was going to be kicked out. He was going to be disowned, stripped of his name and all his belongings because he wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t _Slytherin_ enough.

“Please put me in Slytherin!” Dan had begged the hat as it’d muttered in his ear. A chuckle had then sounded from it.

_Oh please, you have barely any Slytherin in you at all! You’d much better suit Gryffindor._

“No, please! I have to go to Slytherin!”

_You’d perform as horribly there as you would in say, Hufflepuff. No, the house that you shall be in is “GRYFFINDOR!”_

Dan had walked, stricken, to his new house table, his heart pounding horribly in his chest, constricting tighter and tighter, threatening to explode. He’d almost wanted it to explode, in fact, it’d save him the trouble of having to speak to his family ever again, his family who was going to hate him. His Slytherin parents, with their dumb, stupid, Gryffindor son, who had nothing but Slytherin siblings. His life was ruined.

He’d then, of course, had to watch Phil freaking Lester get sorted into Slytherin. Lester had looked cool and confident, glad to be in Slytherin, proud. That’s how Dan had wanted to look when he got sorted there, except for the fact that he didn’t get sorted there at all. Stupid Lester, who’d be the perfect role model for his family, who’d get a letter tomorrow congratulating him on being sorted to Slytherin, instead of one asking what went wrong.

The worst part was, Dan wasn’t even as upset as he should be. Sure, he was disappointed that he’d been placed in Gryffindor, but he felt more guilt than he did sadness. Guilt at being slightly relieved for not being placed in Slytherin. He’d never actually thought he’d make it there anyway, and if he did, the other kids would probably be incredibly different from him, and he’d be an easy target to be picked on. So yes, he’d felt relieved when the hat had called out ‘Gryffindor’ to the hall, and he’d felt guilty and horrible ever since. He was in the wrong house.

A heavy sigh slipped from Dan’s mouth, before a ball of mashed potatoes suddenly landed on his plate. “You really have to try these,” said one of the boys seated across from him. “I’m Connor by the way.”

“Have you even eaten _anything_?” Questioned the boy with glasses. “You can’t skip out on this, trust me,” he said gravely, importantly, as if he’d had this opinion for much longer than a half hour. He pointed his finger at one of the dishes, “this one looks gross, but it’s honestly to die for. And this one’s enough to make your mouth water just by smelling it.” He gave the dish a questioning look, before shrugging and scooping third helpings onto his plate. Troye and Connor followed his lead.

“That’s Tyler,” Louise said to Dan, taking initiative from the boys and serving herself something that looked colorful but emitted a buttery smell. Dan wasn’t too sure what it even was, nor if he’d be willing to put any of it in his mouth.

And with that, Dan’s four new friends were reaching all over the table, grabbing multiple helpings and piling them onto his plate, telling him that everything was worth a taste and that seconds were inevitable. Dan grinned, his worries and woes slipping quickly from his mind.

—-

When Dan woke the next morning, it was to his heart beating rapidly as his eyes shot open, due to being shaken awake. The dorm had been bright with morning light and he’d wrenched his eyes open, nearly screaming when he saw Tyler. Because it obviously was Tyler, it was just that he looked, well, _different_. His hair, which had been blonde the night before, was now a brilliant blue, and longer than it had been.

“Wha–?” Dan’s sleep riddled brain managed to make him say, as his gaze darted from Tyler’s eyes to his hair. “Your _hair_!”

“Oh, it does that when I’m nervous. I’m a metamorphmagus,” he supplied. “Means I can change my appearance at will.” And with that, a look of concentration passed over his face, and suddenly his hair was changing to brown, his face thinning, and Dan found himself staring at the nearly identical face of his own, except for the glasses. “Only thing I can’t change is my eyesight.”

“Stop that!” Dan said suddenly, when his brain caught up with what had just happened. “Agh, get my face off your face!” Tyler’s cackle resembled one of a banshee, but the next second his face was back to normal, and other faces were peering out from the hangings around their beds.

“Breakfast?” Suggested Connor, and soon the four boys were rushing down the steps into the common room.

Once in the Great Hall, Dan sat himself down next to Louise, who was holding a piece of parchment. “Course schedules just got handed out. We have transfiguration first with the Slytherins.”

Dan listened to the groans from all his friends around him, thinking about how he had wanted to be in Slytherin. How all of these people would be groaning about the prospect of interacting with him if he’d been placed where he’d wanted. Dan managed to sort his face into something that he hoped resembled annoyance to go along with how everyone else seemed to be feeling. He was dreading seeing the Slytherins too, of course, although for entirely different reasons. Jealousy, for one thing. And also because of Lester, who was about the biggest git Dan had ever seen.

“Dan! Is that for you?” Troye asked, who happened to be sitting on the other side of him. His finger was directed skyward, and Dan followed its path with his eyes, barely holding back the groan as he spotted the family owl, Colin.

“Merlin, no,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

Colin landed heavily in front of him, holding out his leg while simultaneously trying to eat a piece of his toast. Dan relieved the bird of the letter, who hooted appreciatively, before giving him a loving sort of peck, and taking to the air again. It was pretty difficult to ignore the shaking of his fingers, but he did his best as he ripped open the top of the letter, dreading the words that would soon greet his eyes.

_Daniel,_

_We hear that you’ve been sorted into Gryffindor. Not quite what we expected. Hope you’re enjoying your house, and having a good first day._

_Mum and Dad_

Dan swallowed thickly, before folding up the letter, in half and half again, before shoving it into the pocket of his robes. They were obviously upset with him, which was why they were being so cold and distant. Dan could remember sitting at the kitchen table with his parents when Adam had first started Hogwarts, how they’d written so much in a single letter, taking up fronts and backs of two pages. Dan hadn’t even gotten a paragraph.

Deciding that he didn’t care what his family thought, and that he would try to make the best of what he had, Dan pushed the thoughts from his mind. He was determined to have a good first day, a good first year. It didn’t matter that he was in Gryffindor, nor that his parents were apparently disappointed with him because his very personality got him sorted to the exact opposite house that they’d wanted. All that mattered was that he was going to be happy. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

“Let’s go!” Said Louise, as their little group of friends began to rise from the table. He followed her out into the main hall and onward from there, not knowing how she knew where the classroom was, but not asking either.

Eventually the first year Gryffindors were standing outside the Transfiguration classroom, waiting for Professor McGonagall. The majority of the Slytherins arrived before she did, and they stood in a cluster around the door. Dan could discern Lester’s voice from the small crowd.

“Of course, after he fell in the lake I _had_ to save him. A bit pathetic, if you ask me,” his snobby voice said, retelling a story that was all too familiar to Dan.

“Hey!” Dan barked, his shout echoing off the tall ceiling and far walls of the corridor. “You only had to save me because it was you that pushed me in!” This had the opposite effect of what Dan wanted. Instead of the group of students looking at Lester like he was the bad guy, their gazes now held something akin to admiration, as well as mirth. They thought this was funny.

“Good one, Phil!” One cheered.

Before Lester could retort, McGonagall appeared, her cloak billowing behind her as she walked briskly towards the class. They were led into the classroom by the professor, and were soon choosing seats. Dan sat in between Louise and Tyler.

Transfiguration class was probably the coolest thing that Dan had ever learned. Sure, he hadn’t been to any of his other classes yet, or even learned anything at all, but he still couldn’t help feeling amazed at everything Professor McGonagall said. He thought every single thing was interesting, from the very theories and basics, such as how it was easiest to transfigure an object into something of the same size, to how even people could be transfigured. Dan was absolutely enraptured, and the class would’ve been perfect too, probably his favorite out of all his classes, if it wasn’t for Phil Lester.

Lester and his friends had, of course, chosen a seat directly behind him. It was just Dan’s luck to have possibly the rudest person in the entire school sitting behind him. He felt his neck redden whenever he came up in their fervent whispers behind him, which was surprisingly often. Dan had only had two interactions with the guy, and still Lester insisted on repeating both stories to whoever would listen, and his dumb friends seemed entertained too.

As the end of the class approached, Professor McGonagall passed out small strips of thread, which they were supposed to be turning into needles. She had said that she didn’t actually expect anyone to actually transfigure it this class, but that she would be incredibly impressed if anyone did. Dan was determined.

Try as he might, though, he was much too distracted. He’d concentrated, staring hard at his string and envisioning a needle, but no matter how hard he concentrated and how precisely he tapped it with his wand, it wouldn’t change. He in part blamed Lester, because he and his friends were still whispering. No matter how hard Dan tried, he couldn’t block out their voices, and he couldn’t concentrate well enough. Not with their constant talking distracting him.

“Can you guys shut up? I’m trying to concentrate,” Dan finally snapped, turning in his seat and glaring at Lester. On one side of him sat a boy with purple bags under his eyes, and on the other a boy with curly hair and sharp green eyes, which were currently set in a glare.

“Oooh, Howell wants to _concentrate_ ,” Lester taunted, snickering along with his friends. Dan huffed agitatedly, preparing to turn back in his seat and try to block out their voices.

As Dan glared at his thread, his face growing red with the hissing and sniggering behind him, he jabbed his wand forward, concentrating with all his might on a needle. For a second he thought he saw something, a flicker, the thread looking kind of silver, and then something hit him in the back of his head, and he was staring a stupid piece of string.

Dan ignored it, deciding to try again. He projected his anger at Lester, his desire for McGonagall’s approval, his _demand_ for this string to turn into a needle, and he tapped the string with his wand once more, trying to push the magic from his body, through his wand, into the string. No, into the _needle_. Before his very eyes, the thread transformed, it grew stiff and straight, pointed at one end, metallic and glinting in the light of the classroom. He gasped, and Louise and Tyler immediate looked over, both letting out victorious whoops at his success. Tyler was immediately complaining, asking how he’d done it, but Dan didn’t get a chance to answer, because Professor McGonagall was in front of him, smiling and telling him that she saw a lot of potential in him.

He was so happy that he almost couldn’t hear Lester making fun of him, calling him a kiss up and a teacher’s pet, accusing him of studying before he’d even gone to school. Still, it was hard to bring himself to care. Not when he was successful and Phil Lester was jealous. Dan already knew what his favorite class was going to be.

—–

“You obviously shouldn’t pack the soil that tightly, Howell. You’ll make its roots uncomfortable,” Lester snapped, which Dan answered with a glare. He always dreaded Herbology, as Professor Sprout had had the bright idea of assigning them permanent partners instead of letting them choose, and he’d been unfortunate enough to be paired with Lester.

Still, it was the middle of winter and Dan was freezing, seeing as he’d forgotten his scarf and his hat due to waking up late. He couldn’t help feeling impatient, and he wanted to be done with this lab as soon as possible. Time had flown by, and the school year so far had been a whirlwind of excitement and learning, and Dan had become a sponge, trying to absorb as much information as he could. He spent a lot of his spare time in the library, reading up on things he’d learned that day in class, learning for the sake of learning. Everything was always so interesting he just couldn’t seem to help it, and it wasn’t a rare day when he was questioning how he’d ended up in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw (though his parents still probably wouldn’t have been very happy with him even if he did. Adam got letters at least once a week, and Dan had only gotten three in his entire time here, and none of them had filled even half a page). His friends often joked about it as well, and it was most always him they came to for help with their homework. Dan usually did his the day he got it, as it meant reviewing the incredible things that he’d learned that day, and helping to secure them in his memory.

Although, one subject that he wasn’t very good at was Herbology. Which, of course, Lester relished in. It was his forte, after all, and he knew almost everything there was to do with plants, Dan was pretty sure. He’d long since learned not to challenge Lester though, as he was a genius with them. It seemed that he instinctively knew what they liked and how to take care of them, and they always got good grades on their plant labs, solely thanks to Lester. Though Dan would never dream of saying such praise to Lester’s face.

Lester glared as the plant began to wriggle, its leaves stretching upward, as if trying to pull itself out of the dirt. It did look kind of uncomfortable. “See? Now we’re going to have to re-pot it,” he sighed, and with that he was taking the plant into a delicate grasp, which greatly contrasted the visible annoyance and anger on his face, and tipped the pot. The soil rained down on the table before them, and Lester placed the plant back in, gently surrounding it again, without packing the soil like Dan had done.

“Well, can’t it climb free now?” Dan questioned. This was the reason he’d packed down the soil in the first place, as he’d read that this type of plant could escape from the ground if it so desired, and he hadn’t wanted it to be able to do that. The last thing Professor Sprout needed was a bunch of plants running around her greenhouse, which already had enough dangerous plants in it to worry about without a bunch of annoying plants trodding underfoot.

“Yes, but it _won’t_ ,” Lester said, sounding exasperated. “If it likes how it’s been planted, then it’ll feel no desire to escape. But if you pack it in tight, then it’ll _make like a plant_ and _leaf_ , which will either result in a loose plant, or the stem will rip away from the roots, which is a perfectly good plant wasted.”

“That was the most Hufflepuff kind of pun,” Dan said blandly, staring at Lester with an almost amused kind of expression, answered with a glare. He hated how even after making a lame plant pun, he sounded confident and smart. Lester had even decided to wear his glasses today, which made him look even smarter. Dan wanted to punch him in the face, just to watch those glasses snap.

What made matters worse was that Dan should’ve known everything Lester had just said as well. It was in the reading they were supposed to have done, and Dan had read the first couple of pages, but he’d gotten distracted by a different book about transfiguration. He’d read all about a witch who’d been sent to Azkaban for messing with a muggle, constantly transfiguring their pants into different patterns, making the muggle paranoid and scared. It had been incredibly fascinating, and Dan had fallen asleep in the library (seeing as he’d snuck down there in the middle of the night in the first place). This was, of course, how he’d ended up oversleeping. And not having any of his proper winter clothes. Dan would never admit it, but under his heavy winter cloak he wasn’t wearing the normal trousers, sweater, undershirt, and tie. He was wearing his pajamas.

“Oh, looks good boys!” Professor Sprout said as she walked past them. Lester seemed to light up slightly with the approval, and a smug look appeared on his face. Dan had often seen him trying to hide how much he liked herbology. Lester was often found with a smile or a twinkling in his eyes (not that Dan noticed his eyes) when he was staring at interesting plants. Of course, he’d wipe these emotions from his face the second he noticed Dan looking at him, but still, Dan knew they were there. He knew how much Lester was obsessed with this class, with plants.

Once they were dismissed from class (they were the very first ones to go, since their plant had been very agreeable towards them. Dan had a sneaking suspicion that it had cooperated so well because Lester had stroked its leaves lightly before they began working, and he didn’t entirely understand how that had worked, but he knew Lester had his ways) they trudged their way up a hill, towards the castle. They weren’t walking together, they wouldn’t, obviously, seeing as they hated each other, but they were both walking. Towards the castle. At the same time, in a close vicinity, yes, but not together.

Dan was slightly in front, his legs quickly becoming tired with his vigorous pace as he stomped up the hill, trying to bring feeling back into his feet, which were frozen and numb with the cold. Lester was keeping up, though walking at a more reasonable pace, due to his long legs. He stood perhaps three or four inches taller than Dan, as he appeared to be growing rapidly throughout the year, and Dan found himself eagerly measuring himself every other week, but to no results.

It was as Lester picked up his pace, letting his long legs carry him forward faster, so that he was sweeping past Dan, that Dan found himself falling. Lester’s shoulder had shoved into his as he’d walked by, and Dan, his cold, bare hands shoved deep in his pockets, had tripped forward, falling to the ground with nothing to break his fall. He felt his knee catch on something, something hard and sharp, something that dug into his skin and possibly cut it open slightly, but Dan ignored the pain, instead jumping to his feet in a rage.

He ignored the pain that flared in his leg with every step, and instead thundered towards Lester, furious. “What was that for?” He demanded harshly, stepping in front of the taller boy, his wand already drawn and held tightly by his side.

“What was _what_ for?” Lester asked, a grin forming on his lips. He obviously knew what he’d done, he was just being stupid like usual, and Dan couldn’t help the anger that was building inside of him, boiling and frothing, threatening to spill over the sides like most of his potions. Yet another subject that he seemed to have difficulty in.

“You tripped me!” Dan exploded, his knuckles turning white with how tightly he was gripping his wand. Lester was looking at him as if he were superior, and he was standing up tall and straight, his telltale smirk adorning his face. Dan wanted to split that lip, wanted to punch it so hard that it bled, that Lester cried.

“No I didn’t,” Lester insisted, and suddenly it was happening, Dan’s anger was climbing higher and higher, until it was tipping over the edge, boiling over the sides, and he couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t deal with Phil Lester and his crap, couldn’t even pretend to be civilized anymore.

With an annoyed, strangled-sounding yell, Dan leaped forward, wand forgotten, and snatched Lester’s glasses off his face. Dan really wasn’t a violent person, and he wasn’t sure what would happen to his fist if he were to punch somebody in the face, but he assumed it would hurt him as well. And so he was ripping the glasses off the taller boy’s nose, using the shock and surprise of what was actually happening to aid him in his success, and then he was running.

“GET BACK HERE HOWELL,” Lester roared, immediately sprinting after him. His legs were longer, and he was definitely faster, which was an advantage, but Dan had perfect vision, and Lester didn’t even have glasses. And so Dan ran, and Lester chased after him, tripping over rocks and uneven tufts of grass.

Dan was panting as he charged up the hill, which was due to its steepness and his lack of exercise combined, but thankfully Lester was falling behind, as he’d tripped three times now, and was trying desperately to be more careful, cursing with every couple of steps. Dan figured he’d injured himself as well.

Suddenly, however, Lester seemed to remember that he had a wand, which he was quickly fumbling out of his robes, and pointing at Dan as he ran. _“Immobulus!”_ He cried, and Dan found his legs freezing, refusing to let him keep running. And then Lester was sprinting towards him, quickly advancing, and Dan was going to be pummeled to death, and he hadn’t even done any real damage yet.

Seeing as he was already practically dead, what with his legs frozen and a pissed off Phil Lester charging toward him, looking absolutely furious, Dan decided he had nothing left to lose. And so, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, blocking out the image of the stampeding boy, Dan gripped one side of the glasses in each hand, and snapped them in half.

It was exactly two seconds later that Dan was being knocked down by a bull, his body flying backward a few feet by the sheer force of Lester. Thankfully, Lester wasn’t the best at charms, and as he was no longer concentrating, and had even moved Dan himself, the freezing charm had broken. And so Dan struggled underneath Lester, his body aching at being shoved so hard, while Lester pinned him to the ground, his eyes blazing with rage.

“Give me my glasses,” he said in a scarily calm tone. It was like when Dan got in trouble back at home, when his mum was so mad that she couldn’t even yell, and instead talked to him in a tone so calm that he knew he wasn’t eating dinner for a month.

Dan gulped, and shakily held his hands forward, half of Lester’s glasses in each of his palms. Lester examined the damage carefully, his eyes squinted slightly. He then said, in a voice as even as the one before, “fix them.”

Now, Dan hadn’t gone and stolen Lester’s glasses, and then broken them, for nothing. He hadn’t gone through all this trouble, signed up for his very own murder, just to aid Lester with a problem that was now entirely his own. And so, using that brain of his, Dan answered. “No.”

“What did you just say?” Lester said through clenched teeth.

“No.”

Dan barely had time to think before Lester was pulling out his wand and pointing it directly at Dan’s face. There was almost nothing more terrifying than seeing a wand mere inches from your eyes, knowing all the sorts of things it could do to you. It was hard, but Dan gathered the remaining courage he had, and steeled himself. It wasn’t like Lester could do any real damage to him anyway, they were both first years, and they didn’t know very much, and what they did know wasn’t even very strong yet. The worst Lester could do to him was probably try to cast a curse and mess up, and have something completely different happen to him instead.

“I’ve seen you in the library, I know you know thousands of spells. I know you know how to fix this!” Lester yelled, before angrily jabbing his wand into Dan’s neck. Dan swallowed, trying to tilt his head further away from the wand. The tip of it was warm, and it was growing hotter against his skin, a tingling sensation spreading out from it.

“Of course I know how to fix it,” Dan scoffed, even daring to roll his eyes, at risk of his own _life_. “But I’m still not going to fix it for you.”

Lester positively growled, before he retracted his wand, instead replacing it with his hand. He squeezed slightly, making Dan choke, and glare up at the offender. “Meet me at the astronomy tower tonight. We’re going to have a proper wizard’s duel. Loser has to do something to get themselves expelled,” he growled, and Dan was sure that he could see fire in the taller boy’s eyes.

“Fine!” Dan said, before he threw Lester’s glasses to the side, and scrambled out from underneath him. He then sprinted away, getting as far from the other boy as fast as he could. It was a genius idea that Lester had had anyway. Dan knew tons of spells, had read tons of books. He didn’t doubt that he could best Lester in a proper wizard’s duel, and he couldn’t help imagining how great school would be without Lester around. No one to bother and pester him, no one to constantly berate him and cause him grief. It sounded like a great idea to Dan, and he was sure that he could win it. And even if he didn’t, which was doubtful, he’d just not actually do anything to get himself expelled. He’d break his word with Lester, because there was no way he was going to leave Hogwarts. His parents were already disappointed with him for being a Gryffindor, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what they’d do if he got kicked out of school.

And so Dan did the only thing he could think to do. He went to the library.


	4. Chapter 4

It already hadn’t been a very good day for Phil, and his mood only continued to sour. Not only had stupid Dan Howell messed up their assignment in Herbology, he’d even gone as far as to _steal_ his glasses and then _break_ them. Phil liked to consider himself intimidating and scary, as already many of his fellow first years were wary of him and careful not to annoy him, and even Howell looked like he had to brace himself before daring to insult him, but he honestly hadn’t thought that Howell would have had the nerve. The nerve to commit such a crime. _Stealing_ and _breaking_ his glasses.

And it wasn’t a walk in the park afterwards, either, stumbling back up to the castle, one half of his glasses in each hand, held precariously in front of his face so he could see. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to finding a teacher and getting them to fix his glasses. What was he supposed to tell them? He couldn’t rat out Howell, as then they probably wouldn’t be able to get away with their duel later, and Phil wanted nothing more than to get Howell expelled. He knew that Howell was a nerd, constantly holed up in the library, doubtlessly because he didn’t have any friends. But still, Phil knew plenty of spells too, and he was taller, which meant he could probably intimidate Howell with his height alone. Plus, Howell wasn’t the only one who knew where the library was, Phil could just as easily study up before their duel.

No, he would have to lie, to think of an excuse about why his glasses were broken. Lying wasn’t something foreign to him, he’d grown up doing it his whole life, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was good at it. He could be, at times, but this was probably his least Slytherin-like attribute. Most Slytherins could lie much easier than him, and he still found himself stuttering when he told an untruth. What was going to make it even more difficult was that he’d be lying to save Howell from trouble. Now _that_ truly was a foreign concept.

Phil stumbled over yet another rock, swearing under his breath as his toe throbbed. There were fingerprints all over his lenses, likely from Howell’s grubby little fingers. He debated pausing to wipe them on his cloak, but decided not to. He would forge on, ignoring the stupid prints of Howell’s stupid hands.

When he finally made it back to the castle, the long stretch of grounds thankfully behind him, he debated which teacher he should go to. He could always go to Flitwick, who was good at charms, seeing as he was the professor for it. But still, there was something about Flitwick that Phil didn’t quite trust… possibly his height. His short stature.

He then debated going to Snape, before pushing that far out of question. Snape would no doubt pry to see which brat had broken a precious Slytherin’s glasses, and even if Phil refused to tell, he sometimes got the weird inclination that Snape could read minds. And so that left the Head of Slytherin out of the question as well.

Eventually Phil settled on Professor McGonagall. Sure, she was the Head of Gryffindor House, but she was always really strict, even with them. Phil felt something close to trust when he thought of Professor McGonagall, whom he’d always felt a good amount of respect for, and who didn’t look at him like she looked at most Slytherins. Admittedly, she looked at most Slytherins like they were her students, but she looked at him like he was her student that she liked just a little bit more. And he liked that. And so McGonagall it was.

Phil had to make up a story as he ventured through the corridors towards the transfiguration classroom. It was hard refusing the initial urge to just blame everything that happened on Howell, as he usually did. And this time it actually was Howell’s fault. Okay, so maybe he had tripped Howell first, but that was nothing. Howell had stolen his glasses. And broken them!

It was as he came level with Professor McGonagall’s classroom that he realized he’d forgotten to fabricate a lie about his glasses, that he’d instead spent his entire walk fuming about Dan Howell. Pushing thoughts of a dumb, annoying, short, posh-sounding boy out of his head, he knocked, deciding to come up with a story on the spot. He just needed his glasses fixed, preferably by a responsible adult, one who wouldn’t ask too many questions and would fix his glasses properly.

“Mr. Lester,” McGonagall said as the door swung open, revealing her tall form, made even taller still by her black wizard’s hat. For a brief moment, Phil found himself wondering how Howell must feel, one of the shortest first years, when he stood beside McGonagall, towering body accompanied by towering hat. He must feel positively small and terrified. Loathe he was to admit it, Phil even felt slightly intimidated, standing in her shadow. “What can I do for you?” The Professor asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, er– Professor!” Phil greeted suddenly, remember why he was there. Dan Howell. Broken glasses. “I uh, I broke my glasses,” he said sheepishly (he was playing her, obviously. He most definitely didn’t feel embarrassed or sheepish for coming to her like a child, holding his dumb, grubby, broken glasses in his hands). “And I was wondering if you could fix them,” he added.

Professor McGonagall held out her hands, and Phil eagerly shoved his glasses into them. He just wanted more than anything to have his glasses again, repaired and clean and on his face. And then he wanted to go curse Howell into oblivion and get him expelled from the school. Of course, Hogwarts might be a little more boring without someone to fight with and pester, but Phil supposed he could live with the loss.

“How did this happen?” She unfortunately asked, which he’d been hoping she’d overlook. The how. The why. He obviously couldn’t tell her the truth, not if he wanted to get Howell expelled. Sure, he could tattle and Howell might get a detention, but Phil wanted him _out_. And, unfortunately, Phil had spent all his scheming time, his walk throughout the school, otherwise occupied.

“Well, Professor, I– er, tripped,” he said, completely convincingly. McGonagall was dazzled by his convincing lie, in fact her eyes seemed to be gathering tears. Phil felt bad for lying so well, so believably, knowing he’d made his trusted Professor positively bawl with compassion.

Or, perhaps, her lips might’ve tightened slightly, her eyes squinting. _Minutely_. This could easily be misinterpreted as disbelief, a stern look possibly, but that was merely misinterpretation. McGonagall was obviously distraught with the fact that he’d tripped and hurt himself. He could just tell.

“Did you, now?” Professor McGonagall said, with her eyebrows raised. An obvious display for her further concern.

“Yes. On my way back from Herbology, actually.” See, sometimes Phil did something that could make him be classed as a skilled liar. He added a little bit of truth around his lie, to distract from the lie itself. The more details provided, the more believable the lie, really.

“Am I correct in my belief that one usually has a partner in Herbology?” McGonagall questioned. Phil, feeling like he was falling into some sort of trap, proceeded with caution.

“Yes…?” He answered, his voice rising slightly, making it sound like a question.

“And where was your partner when you so unfortunately tripped, Mr. Lester?” She further interrogated, and Phil felt the sudden urge to turn tail and run. It seemed like she was on to him, or onto something, at least, and he didn’t want to be caught.

“Uh, not there?” Phil said, sounding like a question once again.

“Mhmm.” McGonagall fixed his glasses with a sharp tap of her wand, before handing them back to him.

Phil murmured a quick thank you, thanking his lucky stars, before he hurriedly turned around and began to make his retreat, either to the library or his common room, he wasn’t yet sure.

“Oh, and Mr. Lester?” Called Professor McGonagall, making him turn to look at her once more. “I suggest you go to the hospital wing right away. You’re limping, you realize?”

An image of every rock and slightly uneven patch of ground suddenly flashed through his mind, remember just how many things he’d tripped over on his walk across the grounds. How could he have not noticed he was limping?

“Exactly what I was planning to do, Professor,” Phil lied smoothly, before retreating around the nearest corner (incidentally one that led nowhere near the infirmary) and trying to disguise his limp as well as possible.

–

Phil had ended up going to the library instead of his common room, in search of knowledge instead of comfort from his friends. Plus, being a whole lot of Slytherins, they’d all be trying to dissuade him from going. It was quite possible that they’d be able to convince him too, and so he avoided them. They didn’t need to know what he was going to be getting up to tonight, it wasn’t like it was any of their business anyway.

Plus, Phil didn’t even want to imagine how big of a coward he’d look if he didn’t show up. He’d just look like a typical Slytherin, saving his own neck, avoiding confrontation. Howell probably expected him to do just that, anyway, and Phil wasn’t about to grant him the satisfaction of being right. He was aware how Gryffindor-like his determination seemed, as well as his desire to avoid looking like a coward, but it wasn’t like he could help it.

At the beginning of the year, he’d been absolutely affronted that the Sorting Hat had even dared to suggest that he might have attributes that could apply to houses other than Slytherin. He’d spent a lot of time fighting against those qualities, trying to immerse himself into the Slytherin house, blend in and act accordingly.

This hadn’t worked out very well, however, and he’d ended up letting the good things from the other houses return to his personality. It wasn’t so bad to be brave and courageous, nor was it unpleasant to be smart and quick witted. Even being loyal wasn’t all that bad. And so, letting himself be himself (as much as he felt comfortable, being surrounded by a bunch of snakes, anyway) he’d managed to rise to the top. Having so many redeeming qualities (not to brag) hadn’t excluded him, hadn’t made him an outcast, it had only made him more strongly revered, boosted him to the top of the food chain.

All of his friends looked up to him. He wasn’t too scared and cowardly to pick on the other idiots in their classes, and for that he had Gryffindor to thank. The scheming, of course, he could thank Slytherin for. His good grades and grace at studying were obviously Ravenclaw’s doing, and he got many rewards and bribed many of his peers thanks to them. And, of course, he couldn’t ignore the Hufflepuff in him, the loyalty he felt towards his house (for which he absolutely abhorred losing house points, and revelled in the ones he won). And so he supposed it wasn’t so horrible that the hat had wanted to place him in other houses, although he would still never admit it to anyone. Plus, he still hated the other houses with his guts. He supposed that they might have been slightly better, had he been placed in them. But, seeing as he was in Slytherin, the award for best house was unarguable.

Phil drew himself out of his thoughts, trying to concentrate on the words before him. He couldn’t help the trickling feeling of dread that was suddenly climbing up his sides, as the sun sank lower and his time to go to the Astronomy Tower grew closer. Now that his blood wasn’t pumping with the chase he’d had with Howell, nor the narrow escape he’d had with Professor McGonagall, he could finally focus on how he was actually feeling.

He honestly hated dueling. His nerves went haywire, and his limbs went heavy with dread. Anxiety clawed through his chest and up his throat, and he distractedly tried to force all these feelings to go away. He was just going to fight Howell, inevitably (or, though he didn’t want to admit it, hopefully) win, and then go on with his life, free of the annoying twerp. Plus, he figured that even if at the very long shot, he didn’t win, he could always back out, refuse to let himself get expelled. It’s not like they’d made a Wizard’s Bet, or promise or something or other. Thinking this though, led him to wonder if Howell might have the same plan. To simply back out if he lost. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on that for long, however. He would just have to believe that Howell would honor their challenge if he lost. When he lost. And if he didn’t… Well, Phil would deal with that later.

Sighing, Phil forced himself to concentrate, glaring down at the words on his page.

_…the Fluxweed’s Venum, however, is toxic to many people. It’ll cause a violent, immediate rash (similar to that of undiluted Bubotuber pus) to those with asthma, lactose-intolerance, anemia, or heterosexuality who touch it. If left untreated, it could cause several maladies such as…_

Phil resisted the urge to curse violently out loud, realizing he’d subconsciously managed to read a book about Herbology instead of curses, jinxes, and counter-curses. He slammed the book shut, glaring at the title ( _Wizard’s Wisest Autotrophs_ ) and stood angrily, marching towards the shelves. He strolled down a long aisle, picking up a formidable looking book ( _Dangerous Jinxes, Horrendous Hexes, and Uncomfortable Curses_ ) and planning to sit back down at his table. He realized that many of these spells would be far out of his capability, but he planned to write down the ones he thought he could manage, and then go practice them in a deserted classroom somewhere.

His plans were diverted, however, when he emerged from the shelves and found none other than Dan Howell sitting at his table. He marched determinedly forward, prepared to kick Howell out of his seat, by force, if necessary, but he stopped short. He could see the book that Howell was reading, one that he was very familiar with. Phil darted behind the nearest shelf, pushing a few books out the way and staring at Howell.

The book in front of him was a book about space, and Phil watched as Howell flipped the page, running his fingers over the picture in front of him, seemingly transfixed. Phil could probably name every constellation on that page, and he knew what they all looked like and where they were supposed to be in the sky, but he could still never find them when he looked. He could see the stars, obviously, and he knew that they were beautiful and wonderful, but for some reason he could never find the constellations he was looking for with a telescope pressed to his eye.

He watched in wonder, and then slight disbelief, and then anger, as Howell cast a quick, furtive look around, before carefully tearing out the page. Of a _library book_! Who did he think he was?

Phil continued to watch as Howell stared at the now freed page with something akin to amazement, before a grin found the short boy’s face, and he carefully tucked it under his shirt, making sure not to let the corners get bent. Then Howell closed the book, replacing it on its proper shelf, and escaped from the library, a book about counter-curses in his hand.

Phil felt amazed. He would never have the courage, nor the absolute profound sense of entitlement, to steal a page straight out of a library book. It seemed daring and cool, despite being rude and obnoxious. He found himself wanted to imitate this act, and so he fled from the library, book and all, before he actually went crazy enough to do it. He hid the book in his bag as well, not wanting to have to check it out with Madam Pince. He was afraid he’d draw suspicion to himself, or that the old bat wouldn’t even let him check it out. For now, he had some studying to do.

–

It was well past everyone’s bedtime when Phil finally managed to sneak out. He’d had to wait for the common room to clear out before he could leave, and then he’d had to wait for his dorm mates to actually fall asleep as well.

He’d slid on his shoes and a cloak over his pajamas before quietly escaping from the Slytherin house and cautiously making his way through the school. He’d yet to sneak around after hours, but he’d heard upperclassmen talking about it before, about how teachers patrolled the corridors, most often Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris. It would really suck if Phil managed to bump into the cat, as not only would he get in trouble, he would also have a sneezing fit. He was allergic to cats.

Thankfully, Phil made it to the tower virtually unscathed, narrowly avoiding Peeves the poltergeist, who’d been taunting a suit of armor, and convincing a painting of a tattling monk not to tattle. (He’d promised to give in a good work to Violet, a painting the monk had been crushing on.)

He finally crept up the last stretch of stairs eyes warily searching for Howell, ears straining to hear a sound. He was careful to keep his footsteps quiet on the stone steps, and he peeked around the tower once he’d reached the top, searching for the Gryffindor.

Phil was surprised to find that Howell was actually there, having beaten him to be the first to arrive. He was laying on the ground, arms crossed behind his head, and staring diligently at the sky. Phil remembered, briefly, the page that Howell had made a theft of from the library. His eyes moved upwards, almost without his command, to take in the beauty of the night sky. It was a cloudless night, and the stars shone brightly from this high up, this close to the sky, where no torches were burning. It was dark except for the twinkling of the stars millions of miles away, and the hushed light cast from the moon.

A sudden, strange desire flitted through Phil, to throw down his wand and lay beside Howell, to stare up at the sky together, silent but appreciative, their breaths aligned with one another, their chests rising and falling gently, the air turning white before their noses. It was a bizarre thought, of course, and Phil was quick to discard it from his mind, but it still left a warm sort of feeling deep in his chest. He almost regretted the fact that he was about to disturb this peaceful scene. And sure, Phil could curse Howell while he was down, while he wasn’t paying any attention, but that’d be sick and cowardly. He was a Slytherin, not a moraless piece of crap.

“Howell,” he said finally, after another minute or so of not-creepily-staring at Howell, wishing that he wouldn’t have to disrupt that look of contentment on the other boy’s face. Howell jumped in shock when he heard Phil’s voice, and he was quick to scramble to his feet, digging his wand out of his robes haphazardly and pointing it at Phil. His hand was shaking.

Despite the fact that the wand being pointed at him was shaking with how nervous Howell seemed, it was still a wand pointed at him. And so Phil drew his, trying his best to hide his nerves as he held it forward. The scarier he looked the more scared Howell was likely to be, and so he would try to look downright terrifying. Perhaps they could get out of this fight without actually fighting?

“S-shouldn’t we like, shake hands first? Or something?” Howell questioned. His hand had stopped shaking somewhat, which wasn’t a good sign for Phil. _Don’t you dare start gathering your courage Howell! I need you to be nice and scared so I can beat you!_

“We can if you want,” Phil said reluctantly, his wand dipping slightly as he lost concentration. If Howell tried to hex him before their duel officially began, then he was going to push him off the goddamn tower.

“Okay,” Howell answered, before taking a tentative step forward. Phil walked forward as well, reaching out his hand that wasn’t holding his wand. Howell did the same, and they came to predicament where Phil’s left hand was out, and Howell’s right hand was. Phil blinked down at their extended arms, feeling slightly exasperated.

“Kind of hard to shake hands when you hold out the wrong hand,” Phil said bitingly, letting his eyes roll with the statement. Howell scoffed but shoved his wand into his right hand, before holding out his left. Phil had never even realized that Howell was left handed before.

They shook hands, Howell’s grasping his lightly, their hands rising upward before swinging back down in a firm shake. It was as they pulled away that Phil realized how soft Howell’s hand was, and how cold his fingers were. He shook the thoughts from his mind, and Howell traded his wand back to his dominant hand. They each backed up a few steps, and stood with their wand arms extended, faces morphing into something that resembled determination.

In that moment, Phil couldn’t help feeling a bit childish. They’d come up here, in the middle of the night, to perform a wizard’s duel. Except they were both eleven, and knew hardly any magic at all yet, and really, they were most likely to injure each other by accident by performing a spell wrong. Furthermore, sneaking out in the middle of the night and dueling was really dangerous and idiotic, and it was likely that they were both going to end up getting in trouble. How often did students wander out of bed anyway, especially without getting caught? And how much noise was their fight going to make? Enough to alert someone?

As Phil was letting his mind go off on its tangent, trying pitifully to put an end to it, to convince himself that he couldn’t back out now, Dan leapt forward. _“Petrificus totalus!”_ He cried, and Phil jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the spell that could’ve easily put an end to their duel.

 _“Stupify!”_ He yelled in return, watching in annoyance as Howell waved his wand, and the spell dissipated against thin air.

 _“Anteoculatia!”_ Howell said, his wand pointed directly at Phil’s head, which he was too slow to dodge. Annoyance coursed through him as his hair transformed into a pair of antlers, which Howell had the audacity to giggle at.

“Oh you’ll pay for that, Howell!” Phil taunted. _“Avis Oppugno!”_ The spell was supposed to summon a flock of offensive birds, but he’d never really had time to practice it. Instead, maybe six birds sprang from his wand, and they fluttered meekly towards Howell, before changing their mind midcourse, and flying half heartedly towards the owlery. Embarrassment plagued him, before Howell laughed again, summoning Phil’s anger once more.

Howell cast the same spell as Phil (obviously because he was unoriginal and couldn’t think of any other spells) although it was admittedly better, as about twice the amount of birds Phil had summons sprang forth, and they dived towards Phil, vicious beaks sharp and pointed towards Phil’s face, talons extended with malice. Phil dodged them, sprinting backwards and diving towards the ground, hands protecting his head. In that moment he couldn’t think of any spells to banish the birds, nor to protect himself, and he ended up relying on his arms.

Thankfully, the birds seemed to lose their spirit as Phil’s had, and they abruptly stopped their attack before they could do any damage, and retreated. Still, so far he’d only managed to embarrass himself, although thankfully his antlers were losing shape, changing back into his hair.

“You haven’t even gotten close to getting me!” Howell laughed, a gleam in his eye. His wand was held loosely as his side, and his stance was relaxed. Oh, he wasn’t going to beat Phil that easily.

“Just warming up, Howell,” he snarled, before swinging his wand upward and shooting a jelly legs jinx at him. Howell tried to sidestep, but wasn’t quite quick enough, and the spell struck him in the leg, causing him to wobble where he stood, before he tripped and fell backward.

Howell was quick to cast the countercurse, but Phil had already advanced on him, and was much closer when Howell managed to stand again, still a bit unsteady on his feet. Phil continued walking forward, and Howell tripped over his feet in his hurry to get away, and he stumbling backwards quickly, fumbling with his wand and trying to think of an appropriate spell.

Not wanting to be overcome by Howell, Phil quickly cast a tickling charm, making Howell gasp and back up even further, his shoulders rising uncomfortably, his body curling inwards, trying to get away from the phantom tickling sensation. He stuttered the countercurse, his words coming out breathless and giggly, and when he finally looked up, he seemed to notice how close he and Phil were.

Phil pressed forward one more step, and Howell backed right into the low walls of the Astronomy tower. It didn’t quite reach Howell’s waist, but he was lucky there was a wall behind him at all. There were sections of the wall that were missing, just like the typical image of a castle turret, with low, zipper like walls, leaving gaps between the chunks of stone.

“Do you surrender?” Phil questioned, his lip turning up in a smirk. Howell glared.

“Never.”

“How about now?” Phil asked, and he pressed forward even more, grabbing Howell’s shoulders tightly and pushing him back slightly, enough to make him feel afraid. He obviously wasn’t going to push him off, he wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t a murdered either. And he most certainly wasn’t cruel. Or, at least, he wasn’t _that_ cruel. He didn’t find it below himself to make others think that he was willing to push them off a tower.

Howell’s eyes grew wide, frantic, and suddenly he was thrashing in Phil’s grasp, his breaths coming out in sharp, loud pants, his body twisting, his shoulder connecting harshly with Phil’s chest. And then he was grabbing Phil’s sides, pushing him, and they were tripping, falling hard into the ground of the tower, Phil’s head worryingly close to an area of the wall where there wasn’t actually any wall. And Howell was sitting on his chest, to make matters worse, and he was panting with panic, his face red and blotchy, his hands fisted worryingly tight in Phil’s chest.

His body was shaking on top of Phil’s, and he seemed legitimately terrified, despite being the one in control, the one doing the sitting on Phil’s chest. Phil opened his mouth, to perhaps suggest an end to this fight (adrenaline was coursing swiftly through him, and he didn’t doubt that he could continue on, but Howell’s shaking was starting to worry him) when a sudden shout was ringing through the air.

“Howell! Get off that boy _immediately_!” A familiar voice screamed, and Howell looked like he wanted to get off, but he was still shaking, positively vibrating on top of Phil, and his clenched hands no longer seemed so threatening, but more like he was trying to hold onto something.

Suddenly Professor McGonagall, the one who’d shouted, was marching forward and yanking Dan off of him, who flew backwards and seemed suddenly able to move again, and he was scrambling backwards, as far away from the edge as he could, before he pulled his knees up to his chest, which he buried his face into.

“Are you all right, Mr. Lester?” McGonagall questioned, and Phil nodded numbly, not knowing what else to do.

McGonagall was then marching fiercely right back to Howell, and she was grabbing him by the shoulder, pulling him to his feet. His face was pale and his shaking hands were stiff by his sides when he stood before McGonagall, who was glaring at him as if he’d killed her very own pet cat.

“I cannot _believe_ you, Mr. Howell,” She said quietly, furiously. “How incredibly dangerous that was! You could’ve killed Mr. Lester! Murder! Which was probably just what you were going for, wasn’t it?” Howell was shaking his head frantically, his mouth open slightly, but McGonagall ignored him. “How disgraceful, how horrible. It is an _embarrassment_ to have you in my House.” She spat, and at that Howell stopped shaking his head, his mouth falling open impossibly wider, his eyes shining, possibly brimming with tears. Phil pushed that thought from him mind. He couldn’t help feeling guilty, he’d been fighting too, after all. And he’d been the one that’d even pretended to threaten Howell with pushing him off the tower, Howell had only defended himself, had ended up near the edge as he sat atop Phil, looking terrified as he did.

But still, wasn’t this what Phil had wanted? Hadn’t he wanted Howell to get in serious trouble? To get expelled? But, no, he’d wanted that _after_ he’d won the fight. And he’d never won it, sure, he’d had Howell backed against the wall, but he could’ve made a comeback. His spells had been stronger, quicker, it was likely that Howell would’ve ended up winning the duel, if only Professor McGonagall hadn’t interrupted.

Feeling a horrendous amount of guilt pile onto his shoulders, Phil stumbled forward, desperate to right things. “Please Professor,” he said suddenly, determinedly. “I was fighting too, it’s not his fault.”

“Oh, it most certainly is,” McGonagall answered, without so much as considering Phil’s words. “Attempted murder is a crime. He’ll have to be expelled for this. Azkaban, if it were up to me,” she said darkly.

One glance at Howell’s face, horrified, distraught, and streaked in tears, had Phil opening his mouth again. “No Professor, please! It wasn’t his fault! You can’t expel him, he wasn’t even trying to push me off the tower! He just fell onto me!” He insisted, begging, pleading with her. Desperate for her to understand.

She looked between them carefully, before seeming to come to a decision. “Mr. Howell, you will not be expelled today,” she said calmly. Howell let out a breath of relief, his eyes wandering up to hers, daring to look hopeful.

“However,” Phil could hear Howell’s heart shrivel up into a little ball, “there will be punishment. And, to ensure that the two of you fight no longer, a spell will be placed on you, Mr. Howell.”

There was a long paused, and the three of them were completely silent. Phil could hear the wind, whistling past his ears, making Howell’s hair billow around his face. Phil suddenly, desperately longed that he’d just lain down next to Howell and looked at the stars. That would’ve been a much better alternative to this.

“A spell?” Howell questioned quietly, and Professor McGonagall nodded sharply.

“Yes. To ensure that you don’t attempt to attack Mr. Lester again–”

“But Professor-”

“Quiet, Mr. Lester. To ensure that future quarrels are disbanded before they begin, you will be charmed to feel intense pain upon touching Mr. Lester.”

 _“What?”_ Both the first years exclaimed, incredulous.

“But, why only on him? Why don’t I have to have to be punished as well?” Phil demanded. Howell glared at him, even though he should definitely be glaring at McGonagall. It was as if Howell didn’t want to be pitied, but how could Phil help it, after all that was happening? McGonagall had called him a disgrace, an embarrassment! And now he was being punished, and Phil was being allowed to walk free? What kind of enforcement was this?

“The spell can only be applied to one, in a pair. As for the punishment, well, you will be punished too, of course. In time.”

Phil was gaping at her. _In time?_ What the hell did that mean? Way to keep him on the tips of his toes. What was he supposed to expect? When would this punishment begin? Would she inform him?

And then McGonagall was making them clasp hands, and Howell was glaring viciously at him, and it only felt right to glare back. He couldn’t just let himself be glared at, after all. Professor McGonagall then began speaking very quickly, in a language that most certainly wasn’t English. She was sliding her wand over their intertwined hands, flicking and prodding, and thick, bright, red ropes of light were extending from the end of it. They wrapped tightly around Howell’s arm, they looked hot and Phil wondered if he was in pain. For him they simply circled widely around his arm, far away enough that the light barely even reached him.

Suddenly it was over, and the red light was disappearing, no, being sucked into Howell’s arm, and around him they were disappearing, twinkling out of existence and looking friendly. They dropped their arms, still standing in front of each other. Phil felt wary, and wrong. What had McGonagall done? Dan didn’t deserve this, it wasn’t even his fault that they’d fought in the first place.

“Okay, we need to test it,” McGonagall said coldly, and then she cleared her throat.

“Go on, Mr. Lester, touch his hand,” she insisted. Phil looked at her, wondering if she was crazy, but she nodded her head forward, insisting. Phil took a tentative step forward, and then he was reaching forward slowly, horribly slowly, feeling guilty and sick and nauseous already. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t fair. This was cruel, it was torture!

Phil touched Howell’s hand, his fingers just barely brushing over the backs of his knuckles, but Howell jumped back as if he was burnt, a loud gasp ripping from his throat, his hand flying towards his chest, cradled against his body. A whimper forcibly crawled out of the shorter boy’s throat, and he pulled his hand away from his chest, which was shaking violently, to look at it. There was nothing, of course, how could there be, when the pain was all magic? All fabricated inside Howell’s mind?

But still, Howell stared at it, looking horrified and worried. Phil couldn’t have felt any worse. He’d made that face, he’d ruined the peaceful, gentle look of the Dan Howell who’d lain out here less than an hour ago, gazing at the stars carefully. He’d ruined that face, transformed it into this one, one full of pain and shock, one full of despair.

Oh Merlin, what had he done?


	5. Chapter 5

Dan had never been very good at getting up in the mornings. It was always an internal struggle, a battle against himself to roll out of bed and face the day. It didn’t get any easier when he started school at Hogwarts… it just became a little more forceful. On his friends’ parts, at least.

“Up and at ‘em!” Shouted someone who sounded suspiciously like Tyler. He was usually the first to try and get Dan up, taking it as a personal challenge to make sure that he didn’t miss any classes, or, Merlin forbid, breakfast. Dan considered answering with a refusal, but that would only alert Tyler that he was actually awake.

“You can’t miss breakfast, Dan,” he said, and yes, it was most definitely Tyler. He seemed to have this irrational worry that Dan would miss a meal and faint from exhaustion, or something like that. After the first week of trying to convince Tyler that no, he wasn’t hungry, he’d just given up. It was pretty impossible not to when it was Tyler you were arguing against.

There was a brief respite, where no one was yelling at him or tugging at the curtains he’d charmed shut (a useful little spell he’d began using as soon as he’d read it in a library book. Now his friends didn’t have such an easy time getting him up in the mornings.) which was ruined just as quickly as it’d began. There was an amount of grumbling around the room, helping Dan to believe that Tyler had gone and woken everyone up, before there were voiced directly outside his hangings.

“Come out of there Dan! It’s your fault Tyler woke us all up,” said a tired, grumbly voice. Definitely Troye.

“Just let me sleep,” Dan groaned, rolling over as he did and pressing his face into his pillow. He was definitely not a morning person.

Suddenly, something flew over the top of his hangings, and landed on his back. Dan was quick to flip over, looking for the offensive object. He reached out to pick it up, before realizing just exactly what it was.

“You guys! What the h-” the object exploded before he could say anything else, and colorful lights shot into the space around him, bouncing noisily off his curtains and into the air above his bed. What were his friends _thinking_ , throwing a filibuster firework in here? Sure, the fire was charmed to not burn anything, but that was still dangerous.

His friends were howling with laughter outside his bed, and Dan considered himself well enough awake by now, and so he angrily ripped open the hangings. Tyler and Connor immediately leapt forward, grabbing his arms and dragging him toward the door of their dormitory, leading into the common room.

“Wait, wait!” Dan protested, digging his heels into the ground, trying to slow down their progress. “I can’t go to breakfast in my pajamas!”

“We do it all the time,” argued Connor, who was, in fact, wearing pajamas.

“I always get dressed first,” Dan whined. He really didn’t want to go into the great hall in his pajamas, long flannel red and gold pants (courtesy of landing himself in Gryffindor) and a thin white t-shirt. It just felt like he’d be vulnerable, not having his cloak to hide in. It was a good thing he’d even worn a pajamas to sleep last night, as most nights he didn’t wear anything besides his boxers.

“Not this time,” Tyler said, sounding entirely way too chipper. Why must Dan have gotten stuck with the biggest morning person of all time?

They made their way to the Great Hall, Dan thankfully persuading his friends to at least let him put on his shoes first. It was as they were crossing the Entrance Hall that a bunch of Slytherins appeared from the dungeons, sneering at the sight of the group of Gryffindors. Dan was annoyed to see that Phil Lester was in the group, who’d been annoying the crap out of Dan ever since that night on the astronomy tower a few weeks ago.

Instead of taking advantage of Dan’s punishment, like touching him as often as possible and making him succumb to pain, he’d instead been distant. He hadn’t taunted or picked on Dan at all since the incident, and it was driving him mad. Dan didn’t like being pitied, especially not by someone he hated. Lester had no right to pity him, not when he should be the one happy about this.

Dan had tried to make Lester go back to his old ways, he’d insulted him and taunted him and glared at him, but Lester hadn’t responded in any of the appropriate ways. Instead he’d shrugged, or looked at Dan with this sad, pity filled look, which only managed to make Dan even angrier.

And here he was now, clad in only pajamas and bearing the perfect opportunity for Lester to make fun of him. This is not a chance the old Lester would’ve passed up, but now he simply let his eyes rove over Dan, before turning away and ignoring him. Dan would not have this. He would not stand for this foolish behavior from stupid Phil Lester. They were going to continue to be enemies and fight and pick on each other whether Dan had this stupid curse on him or not. He would not stand to be ignored, to be _pitied_.

“Lester!” He called angrily, glaring at the black hair of Lester’s stupid head. Dan was standing a few feet away from him, with his friends all standing behind him, and at his shout Lester turned on his heel, facing Dan with his Slytherin friends now behind him.

“What?” He said, without the usual bite and menace that his words toward Dan usually carried. Instead he just sounded tired, the asshole.

Dan didn’t really know what he was trying to do when he got Lester’s attention. He hadn’t even been sure that he would get this far, half convinced that Lester was going to just ignore him and march into the Great Hall without acknowledging him.

“What are you playing at?” Dan settled on saying. It was better than nothing, anyway, and he did want these answers. Why was Lester refusing to be his usual self just because of Dan’s curse? Shouldn’t this be something that he was ecstatic about?

“What do you mean?” Lester questioned, some of his usual self slipping back into his words. His features hardened, his eyebrows lowering and suddenly Lester was glaring at him, and this was just what he wanted.

“I _mean_ , why are you being nice to me? I don’t want your pity,” Dan spat, his fists clenched by his sides. He drew himself to his full height, which wasn’t much, standing next to Lester anyway, but he did it nonetheless.

“I’m not being nice to you, I’m just not being _mean_ to you,” Lester said coldly. Dan rolled his eyes, noticing that Lester hadn’t denied the pity part. Dan wanted nothing more than to punch Lester, to bring his fist forward and swing it right into the Slytherin’s face.

“Well— stop it!” Dan insisted. “It doesn’t even hurt that much anyway, so you can just stop acting like a freak around me!” This was a total and complete lie. He could remember the way it’d felt, when Lester had lightly touched his fingers. It’d been so shocking, how vibrant and invasive the pain felt. He’d been quick to draw away, cradling his hand against his chest. An embarrassing whimper had pried its way past his lips, but he couldn’t help it, not with the surprise and suddenness of the pain. It wasn’t anything like an ache, is was more sharp and vicious, and Dan had almost wanted to cry.

Lester knew this was a lie too, of course. He’d been there, he’d been the one to touch Dan. He saw the way Dan had reacted, but now Dan was determined to prove him otherwise. He wasn’t weak or wimpy, and he could definitely withstand a bit of pain. He was sure his memories of the event had warped it and made it seem worse than it actually was, anyway.

“Whatever,” Lester muttered, before turning away to walk into the Great Hall.

Dan glared at his back, mustering his courage, and he lunged forward, wrapping his hand tightly around Lester’s arm and yanking him backward. The pain was immediate, and it was _horrible_. It felt like a thousand pains at once, but most distracting was the polar opposites of the pain, the fact that his fingers felt ice cold, but that his hand was burning, fire licking through his skin. To make it worse, Dan wasn’t entirely convinced that Phil didn’t have needles in his arm, because he could feel them digging into his skin, injecting him with actual lava, which slithered through his veins, pulling the heat up his arm, spreading the pain. Dan had to bite down on his lip _hard_ , to keep from crying out, and his teeth were digging in so harshly, he could feel the thin skin of his lip split, allowing the taste of blood to greet his tongue. He couldn’t even feel the pain from his lip, however, because every nerve in his hand was demanding his attention, seeing as they were exploding.

It was agony just holding onto Lester’s arm for the few seconds it took to make him turn around, and the second he did, Dan dropped his hand, welcoming the quick relief of being separated from Lester. The pain immediately faded, leaving behind the memory of the pain, fresh in Dan’s mind. It was terrifying how badly the touch hurt, and Dan wanted nothing more to scramble backwards, to hide behind his friends and sink to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and trembling from the shock and pain. Instead he held his ground, still glaring at Lester, hopefully not looking on the verge of tears. His knees were still shaking, but there was nothing he could do about that.

The surrounding friends were all completely silent, and Dan assumed that Lester’s friends had been informed about the curse just as Dan’s had. They all seemed to be in shock, not quite believing that Dan would put himself through that. The Slytherins seemed a little bit impressed, looking at him approvingly, but the Gryffindors looked worried, as if they were debating running forward and making sure he was okay.

“Stop being nice to me,” Dan growled, finally, and Lester rolled his stupid blue eyes.

“I’m _not_. I’m being indifferent towards you,” he scoffed.

“Well then stop being _indifferent_ to me!” Dan yelled, and he took a step forward, prepared to shove Lester, but Lester hastily stepped back, not allowing Dan to touch him.

Dan pulled out his wand, pointing it forward with a silent thanks to Professor McGonagall. It was dangerous to apprehend one’s magic, and if the curse had extended to spells, Dan would’ve been entirely defenseless. Thankfully he could still hex Lester, even if he couldn’t touch him.

“I won’t!” Lester yelled defiantly, before yanking his wand out of his pocket, and shouting before Dan could react, _“Expelliarmus!”_

Dan’s wand was yanked from his hand, and it went flying through the air, end of end, before landing in Lester’s outstretched hand. Lester threw it to the ground, letting it roll to the side, before sending Dan one last glare and marching into the Great Hall, his possy following behind him.

Quickly snatching up his wand, Dan marched back to his friends, grumbling under his breath as they patted his back comfortingly. It didn’t matter anyway. Lester would be back to his normal self soon, Dan just had to wind him up a bit more. Had to make him break.

Dan had to make a plan.

—-

There hadn’t been any time to work on his plan during Transfiguration. It was his favorite class, and whilst usually he had an easy going time, practicing the spells they learned and copying down the notes on the board, lately he’d been having a more difficult time in the class.

McGonagall had been harder on him lately, taking no nonsense and giving him detention for practically nothing. Just last week he’d been given detention for transfiguring his mouse into a teacup wrong, as he’d accidentally made the teacup china, instead of a simple teacup.

Today, however, they were working on partner transfiguration, where you paired up and tried to transfigure something together. The end result was likely to be unique, seeing as each student would be thinking of slightly different things, such as color and pattern, and the object was supposed to pick up both of the students thoughts, combining them into one thing.

“Oakley with Liguori,” Professor McGonagall said as she approached their table, assigning partners. “Franta and Sivan, and ah, Mr. Howell and Lester.”

Dan glared at her back, wondering if she’d done that on purpose. If she’d made them partners hoping that they’d bump into each other, that Dan would get hurt.

He went over to stand by Lester, crossing his arms and glaring at the taller boy. Lester simply drew his wand and pointed it at the pencils that they were to transfigure into quills. Many of the students held up the pencils in amazement, looking at it from all sides, touching the led of the tip.

“What does this do?” Dan heard Tyler asking Pj Liguori, who took it from him, holding it closer to his eye.

“No idea,” he muttered, fingering the eraser end. “Maybe it’s a type of wand?”

Professor McGonagall instructed them to get started, and Dan drew his wand, pointing it at the pencils. He looked up at Lester, making sure he was ready to begin, before he began concentrating, imagining a quill. He thought of a plain white one, with a gold, pointed tip. When he’d envisioned it well enough in his mind, he held onto the image, waiting for Lester to be ready. He received a small nod at his questioning glance (not that they were being courteous, they were simply concentrating) and he prepared to transfigure the pencil.

However, it was just at this moment, as he was jabbing his wand forward, that Connor stumbled backward, jostling the table that they was working on. Dan jumped in surprise, unfortunately straight into Lester’s side.

Dan gasped at the unexpected pain lancing through his side, at the needles, the fire, and he quickly scrambled away from Lester, falling to the floor in his haste to flee. It appeared that simple clothes wouldn’t stop the pain from happening, despite the boundary from Lester’s skin to his. His body was calming down, the fire put out, but he was still panting. It was so shocking, how there wasn’t any build up to the pain. How one second he was perfectly fine and the next convinced that he was about to die. It was horrible.

Lester looked on the verge of apologizing, and Dan sent him a hard, sharp look, before scrambling back to his feet.

“Let’s just get this done,” he muttered, envisioning his quill once again, and jabbing the pencil with his wand. Lester prodded at the utensil at the same time, and the transformation was instantaneous, the pencil growing longer, changing color, changing into a quill.

It wasn’t anything like Dan had imagined, which was thanks to Lester. The tip was golden, but only on one side, as it quickly changed into silver, half way across it. The quill was longer than he’d imagined too, and instead of being a clean, soft white, it was black, stripped through with white streaks. It was actually pretty nice looking, the best quill that Dan might’ve ever seen. he reached out tentatively to touch it, and was delighted to feel how soft it was. He could imagine taking notes with this quill, letting the soft feather brush past his chin.

“Turn in your quills once you’ve transfigured them,” McGonagall said from the front of the classroom. Making sure she wasn’t looking, Dan quickly muttered a spell under his breath, one that duplicated the quill. Thankfully, Lester hadn’t been looking either, so there weren’t any questions when Dan snatched the original and placed it carefully in his bag, before taking the duplicate up to McGonagall for a grade.

Dan was just surprised that something that he and Lester had made together could turn out so great.

—

It was lunch time when Dan finally came up with the perfect idea for his plan to rile Lester up. It was pretty ingenious, if you asked Dan.

See, there were many a time when Dan felt jealous looking at Lester’s hair. It was straight and fell just right over his face, and Dan had yet to see him have a bad hair day. Dan’s own hair curled with the breeze, and he was constantly trying to charm it straight, using spells to heat it up and even trying to transfigure the curly strands of hair into straight ones. Dan wasn’t very good at this exact kind of magic yet, and so he spent most of his days with a curly mop on his head, which he disliked to no end.

His plan to make Lester fight back, however, was all in the hair. Lester’s hair looked nice, dark and thick, but not for long. Dan was going to turn it orange. It was brilliant!

Dan told Louise about his plan, and she seemed to find it hilarious. They were gasping for breath as they imagined the look on Phil Lester’s face when his hair was turned orange. Troye didn’t seem to think it was a very good idea, and he cautiously asked about what would happen if Phil got mad.

“Well he’s _supposed_ to get mad,” Dan explained, still leaning heavily on Louise’s side, his stomach in pain from laughing.

“But what if he touches you?” Troye asked. Dan scoffed.

“I don’t care.” It was much easier to put up a sense of bravado when he wasn’t experiencing the pain. He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, even though he’d felt the agony three times now.

Troye continued to look worried, but Dan shook of his anxieties, instead imagining Lester with orange hair. He planned to do it after dinner, when Lester got up from his table to head back to his common room. Dan would follow him (Louise insisted on coming so she could watch) and then Lester’s hair would be orange, and he would be _pissed_.

When dinner finally came, Dan sat impatiently in his seat the whole meal, waiting for Lester to stand up. Louise was just as excited as he was, although she still managed to eat her dinner. Dan’s eyes were trained on Lester, who was picking at his meal, his chin in his fist. His friends looked like they were trying to talk to him, Chis Kendall leaning forward eagerly, and Phil’s other friend, the tall, gaunt looking Francis Frankford, was pushing a dessert towards him. Dan watched as Phil snapped at them, before he shoved himself off his seat, and stomped out of the Great Hall.

“Come on!” Dan gasped, grabbing Louise’s hand and dragging her out of the hall mid-bite. He raced after Lester, one hand wrapped tightly around Louise, the other already digging in his pockets, securing around his wand.

As he burst out of the hall, he saw Lester dragging his feet towards the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room no doubt was. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his shoulders were slumped, making him look defeated.

Dan wiped away the questions attacking his mine ( _What’s wrong with him? Why does he seem so down? Is he okay?_ ) and instead drew his wand. “Lester,” he called.

Lester turned around, and he glared at Dan, but even that seemed half hearted. “What d’you want?” He snapped.

Dan grinned. “This!” And with that, he swung his wand forward, emitting an orange beam of light (appropriate) which connected with Lester’s head, absorbing into his hair. Goodbye perfect hair.

Lester yelped, stumbling backward and tripping over his feet. He fell to the ground, breaking the connection, but the damage was already done. Louise was barking with laughter just behind him, and Dan couldn’t help snorting when his eyes were greeted with the sight of Lester’s new hair.

Lester looked confused, until his hair fell in front of his eyes, which widened at the ghastly sight. His mouth dropped open, but his features quickly changed from one of surprise to one of anger, as his eyes hardened into a harsh glare and his lips curled downward.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Howell,” he spit, slowing getting back to his feet. Dan suddenly remembered just how tall the Slytherin was.

“Oh yeah?” He taunted, still smiling at the previously-black-haired boy.

Lester practically growled as he launched himself forward, knocking Dan to the ground and landing on top of him. For the third time that day, Dan experienced the pain of touching Phil Lester, and he desperately tried to keep his mouth shut, to silence the screams that wanted to rip from his chest.

Lester was sitting on his stomach, and his hands were locked on Dan’s shoulders. Dan debated raising his hands to try and push him away, but he didn’t want to come in any more contact with him.

At first his eyes were open, glaring at Lester as he clenched his jaw shut, but he felt tears threaten his eyes, and so he quickly closed them too, not wanted Lester to see the pain he was in, nor the tears that were threatening to shed. Fire was licking its way through his chest, centered in his stomach and burning in his shoulders. Touching Lester was agony, and some conscious part in the back of Dan’s head, away from all the pain, wondered if this was what the Cruciatus Curse was like.

Somewhere far away, Dan heard a voice, which sounded a lot like Louise, saying “Dan? Dan!” but he ignored it. He couldn’t think about anything except the knives being driven into his body, and despite his efforts, his mouth wrenched open and distantly, he heard screaming.

It took him a long moment to realize that the screaming was him, and he tried to rein it back in. Finally, he felt the dull weight of Lester’s body scrambling off of him, and echoes from far away seemed to be saying “Howell! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Dan!” but he still couldn’t concentrate on what he was hearing.

There was something like a slow trickle of water threading through his veins, extinguishing the fire and warming the frozen parts of him. He curled into a ball on his side, and he could feel how wet his face was, making him realize that he’d been crying. A shuttered breath, shaky in his chest, poured out of his mouth and into his knees.

“You’re a bastard, Phil Lester,” said a distinctly female voice. Instead of being clearer, like everything should’ve been, now that the pain was gone, it was fading, still fading, sounding quieter and further away. Dan wondered if there was a cloud stuffed inside his head.

“I— I didn’t mean to.. I didn’t want! Oh no…” This voice was male, and it sounded distressed, footsteps smacked across the floor, vibrating into his skull.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Same female, but this time the voice came from the moon. How’d she get so far away?

“I won’t.” And then he was floating, the moon was dragging him into the sky. For a moment he thought he heard that girl’s voice again, saying Phil Lester. That’s what he thought about as he drifted to the moon. Phil Lester.

Phil.

—

Dan groaned, the loud noise making his head throb. He was lying in a bed, and it was extraordinarily comfy, but his whole body felt tender and painful, and he winced as he dragged himself into a sitting position. He carefully opened his eyes, taking in the soft light of the Hospital Wing. He’d never actually had to come in here before, but it seemed like a comforting place, if a bit lonely.

Suddenly, a witch bustled out of a door on the other side of the room, whom he assumed was Madam Pomfrey.

“Oh! You’re awake!” She said, before coming towards him and handing him a potion. “Should help with the aches. _What_ Professor McGonagall was _thinking_ with a Painful Contact Curse! Not that it’s my place to judge but _honestly_ …”

She sighed, before handing him the potion and patting him lightly on the shoulder.

“Um, what happened?” Dan asked, sipping tentatively at the potion. It tasted like soap.

“Drink it all in one, it won’t get any better,” Madam Pomfrey informed, nodding satisfactorily once he did. “Your friends Miss Pentland and Mr. Lester brought you down here. How that boy used a Levitating Charm that strong in his first year is beyond me! Honestly though, they were arguing the whole way, bickering back and forth. You’d almost think they didn’t like each other,” she laughed, before wandering towards her office. “Just a bit more rest and then you’ll be free to go. You should feel good as new in an hour.”

Dan nodded as she closed the office door behind her. It was no wonder that Louise and Lester didn’t seem to like each other, because they didn’t. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why Lester had insisted on getting him to the infirmary. Though he was glad Louise hadn’t left him alone, to the mercy of Phil Lester.

After an agonizing hour of waiting, he was finally released from the hospital wing, and he quickly made his way back to the Gryffindor tower, in search of Louise. As he burst through the portrait hole, the room went silent, and a bunch of the Gryffindors gasped.

“Dan!” Shouted Louise, before she ran forward and careened into him. He laughed, hugging his friend, before he grabbed her shoulders.

“What happened?” He quickly asked, and Louise shot a furtive look around, before dragging him into a private corner of the common room.

“Phil Lester happened,” Louise informed. “He’s gone mad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as he was the one levitating you to the Hospital wing - I think you were passed out for that - Madam Pomfrey trusted him more. She said she needed only one of us there to explain what happened, and she kicked me out!” Louise explained, making Dan gape at her.

“ _What?_ What did he do? How long was he there?” Dan questioned.

“That’s what I was wondering too, so I hid behind a suit of armor. For three hours!”

Dan was bewildered. Why would Madam Pomfrey need Lester to explain what happened for three hours?

Louise continued. “It was nearly midnight, and I was tired, so I decided to go to bed. Of course, I wasn’t going to leave you to the mercy of Phil Lester without finding out what he was doing in there first. So I sneaked to the door and carefully opened it, and you will not believe what he was doing,” she said in a rush, her eyes wide, filled with astonishment.

“This is no time for dramatics Louise! Tell me what he was doing!” Dan demanded, lowering his voice when curious heads turned.

“He was just sitting there. By your bed. He was sat on the chair and he was hugging his knees to his chest. I swear to Merlin, Dan, I think he was crying,” Louise said dramatically.

“Lester sat by my bed for _three hours?_ ” Dan said, trying to make sense of it.

“Well, I’m not sure when he left. I went to bed before him, remember?” Louise said, and Dan stared at her incredulously.

Why in the world would Phil Lester sit by his sleeping side for hours on end? And why would he be crying? Was he just feeling guilty, or could it possibly have to do with whatever he had looked so sad about when he’d left the great hall?

Dan could remember his face, sad and tired, and his slumped shoulders, his dragging feet. Dan couldn’t help feeling like a bully, thinking of how he’d provoked him in the first place. Lester, who’d been trying not to be mean to him anymore. Could he be feeling guilty for being so mean all year? But why would he? It’s not like it was anyone’s choice but his to be mean, not like he was being forced to be a jerk.

Dan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He hoped Madam Pomfrey had helped Lester change his hair back.


	6. Chapter 6

Phil looked down at his hand, which was currently encasing another hand in it. The hand was soft, the skin tan and the fingers were long and thick. He watched as his thumb stroked the thumb of the hand he was holding, feeling a smile on his face when the hand squeezed his in response.

Suddenly, with a strong, forceful urge, he found himself desperate to find out who this hand belonged to. Just why was he holding a hand anyway? One that felt so right in his own. One that felt so good to hold. One that he wanted to tug on, to pull the hand’s owner upwards, to their feet. One he wanted to keep holding, as he tugged the person forward, their feet falling over each other, laughter falling from their mouths just as easily.

His eyes followed the arm connected to the hand. As his eyes slid further up, he could see that the arm was tensed, the muscles stiff and straining. He felt the hand he was holding stiffen suddenly, gripping his hand painfully hard, before letting go, trying to pull away. Phil didn’t want them to go though, so he grabbed the hand harder, tightening his grip, not wanting to let go. He had to find out who it was!

Finally, he dragged his eyes to the owner’s face, and surprise shot through his body. It was Howell. Dan Howell. His face was screwed up in pain, and he was gasping, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, his entire body writhing slightly, struggling to get away from him.

With a shock of understanding, Phil dropped the hand he was holding, knowing that it was he who was causing the Gryffindor pain. He watched as Howell yanked his hand to his chest, cradling it close to his body, still shivering from the pain, still whimpering.

Phil gasped, opening his eyes and sitting up in bed. That damn dream again.

He supposed that it might’ve been a nightmare, although it started off pleasant enough. It was always the same. Always Howell’s hand he was holding, soft and perfect, until suddenly it wasn’t, and Phil was hurting him. It always left Phil sweaty and shaking, guilty for the pain he’d caused Howell in the past. Of course, he almost never hurt him anymore, not unless it was by accident.

The last time Phil had hurt Howell on purpose had been in their fourth year, when he’d been taunting Phil and his family, and he’d lost his temper, stepping forward and shoving the shorter boy to the ground. Howell had gasped, but the pain had lasted only a second, and wasn’t nearly as bad as what Phil had done in their first year.

He still got shivers thinking about it, the way he’d hurt Howell. How he’d sat on his chest, pinned him to the ground, restrained him. He could remember clearly the way howell’s lip had split open with how fiercely his teeth had been digging into his lip. He could remember the way Howell had finally clenched his eyes shut, a few stray tears squeezing through them despite that. He could especially remember the way Howell’s scream had sounded, echoing in the Entrance Hall, blatantly full of pain, as if Phil were torturing him. And he had been, Phil realized now. Looking back, as an eleven year old, Phil had just been annoyed that his hair had been turned orange by his arch nemesis, the one he’d currently been trying to lay off of.

He’d snapped, deciding that if Howell was willing to start fights, then he’d also be willing to deal with the inevitable. And so Phil had pinned him to the ground, a few seconds of triumph, quickly countered with horror and revulsion for what he had done, only to be added with guilt for even doing it, and then coupled with the resulting nightmares he would then begin to have. For the next five years.

With a shaky breath, Phil expunged all the thoughts of Dan Howell from his head. He hated thinking about him. He hated the guilt and shame that thinking about him brought.

Phil shut down his mind, ceasing all thoughts about stupid Howell. He laid back down and buried his head under his pillow as if to block out the thoughts. He tried to force himself to fall back asleep, as he always did. It was utterly useless, he knew, because it almost never happened.

After the first nightmare of the night, it was either stay awake and complete whatever homework he hadn’t finished before bed, or lay there for hours before he actually fell back to sleep, only to be woken once more by a nightmare.

Phil usually had about three nightmare-less nights a week. Other than that, he had a pile of finished homework, always turned in on time.

He sighed irritably, shoving the pillow off his head and retrieving his wand from his bedside table. With a sharp flick, and a quietly whispered _“Galexis”_ , he found himself staring at the night sky, carefully crafted onto the ceiling above his bed. He watched as dark clouds occasionally drifted across the bright stars, and found himself relaxing into his four-poster. Phil kept his eyes trained on the night sky, thinking of only the stars, and what might lie beyond them. He hugged a pillow to his chest and settled in for another long night, something that wasn’t quite foreign to him.

—

“Phil?” said a recognizable voice, sounding as if it wasn’t their first time trying to get his attention. He blinked slowly, letting his eyes concentrate on the girl in front of him. He chewed the toast that was in his mouth, had been sitting in his mouth, unchewed, for who knows how long.

With a swallow, and a tired blink, he inquired as to what was going on with an unbothered, “hmm?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for an entire minute,” Zoe Sugg laughed, and Phil forced himself to smile, his half asleep body trying to persuade him to use his plate of toast as a pillow. It did look quite comfy…

_“Phil!”_

“What?”

“Rough night again?” she questioned, wearing an understanding smile. She was the only one who knew about his reoccurring nightmares. Other than his dorm mates, who must’ve known by now, he supposed, but had never said anything about it. He and Zoe had been good friends ever since third year, and she was now the friend that Phil regularly chose to talk to. He was still friends with Chris and Francis of course, but they weren’t as sensible as Zoe could be.

“Isn’t it always?” he said with a roll of his eyes, surprised to see an answering smirk from his friend.

“Well, look what I managed to get you,” Zoe said. Her mouth stretched into her trademark Slytherin Smirk, one she’d perfected long ago, as she pulled a small vial out of her pocket.

“What the hell is that?” Phil questioned, leaning forward and making as if to grab the potion, which Zoe quickly yanked backwards.

“No touching, Philip. We both know how clumsy you are, and this was no easy thing to steal. It was in Snape’s stores.” Zoe’s wicked grin was more scary than Slytherin by now, but Phil let an answering smile touch his lips.

“That still doesn’t answer what it _is,_ ” he persisted. Zoe uncorked the vial and dumped the gold potion straight into his potion juice.

“Drink up. It’s the ultimate wake up potion,” she promised.

Phil, knowing Zoe, gave her a withering look. Sure, the best Sugg could be a great friend (the younger Sugg, Joe, had unfortunately been placed in Gryffindor, though Zoe swore he wasn’t so bad, and continued to try to get him to hang out with the two of them) but that didn’t mean she never acted with ulterior motives. Phil was almost positive that drinking his morning pumpkin juice could now result in a trip to the hospital wing, or at least a good amount of embarrassment.

“I swear!” she insisted, holding up her anything-but-innocent hands up innocently.

Phil examined the cup skeptically, but ultimately decided that there was absolutely no coffee in sight, and he was practically asleep on his feet, and that there was no other choice. He downed the goblet in one.

—

With an assortment of curses tumbling from his lips, Phil tugged his sodden, mud covered cloak tighter around him, and stumbled into the Entrance Hall. He was going to kill Zoe.

At first, he’d felt an unbelievable amount of energy run through him, as if he’d had at least seven cups of coffee all at once, and his blood had thrummed loudly through his ears. He must’ve somehow showed how he was feeling, because distantly, he’d heard Zoe laugh. Instead of concentrating on that though, he’d been busy counting his heart beat, which he could feel in every single part of his body, and hear echoing through his ears. Whatever potion Zoe had given him, he figured the dosage might’ve been a bit too high.

“Phil!” Zoe had said, trying to get his attention, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“What?” Phil had asked, distracted. He could hear a buzzing somewhere, though he couldn’t find out where. He kept turning his head, trying to find the source of the buzzing. Perhaps it was a bug. Phil hated bugs.

“Feeling awake?” She’d asked, and he’d given her a lazy nod, before he was standing up and leaving the Great Hall without another word, Zoe’s laughter ringing in the air behind him.

Phil had been the first to Care of Magical Creatures, and it had taken him fifteen minutes to realize that it was pouring. He’d blinked hard, wondering why his robes felt so heavy, trying to shake the heavy feeling off, before he’d come to the conclusion that he was wet. It was then that the original effect of the potion had begun to wear off. Class was cancelled, obviously, because it was raining so hard, and outdoor classes never persisted in conditions like these.

Feeling dazed and confused, Phil had turned back to the castle, ready to question his ex-best friend on what hell he’d just consumed, and what it was doing to him. It was then, however, that he’d tripped and tumbled directly into a ditch, which most certainly hadn’t been there moments before.

“What the—“ he muttered, on all fours in the mud. Phil struggled to his feet, and looked aghast at the sight in front of him. Somehow, despite falling into a shallow ditch, Phil found himself looking up at a wall of dirt, steep and nearly as tall as him, surrounding him.

He tried, struggling, to climb up the sides, but it was still pouring and the clumps of mud slid under his hands and feet, cascading down the slanted walls and piling into the bottom of the ditch. Phil made a sound of dismay, before spitting mud and rain out of his mouth, and trying again. The ground was slick and slippery under his hands and feet, and no matter how determinedly he climbed, it just peeled away underneath him, and he found his body sinking back into the ditch, unable to reach the surface.

Phil wiped his fringe out of his eyes, which was sticking to his face with water. He was starting to think that the potion Zoe had given him had been a bad luck potion. It was a lot like Felix Felicis, although instead of making good things happen to him, it was making his decisions have dumb, dire consequences. Such as showing up to a class in pouring rain, falling into a six foot ditch, and being unable to remove himself from said ditch. He groaned, kicking at the mud rising around his feet. It was in his shoes.

“Need help?” said a voice above him, and Phil squinted against the sky, trying to make out who was standing above him, extending a hand.

 _“Howell?”_ He said incredulously, squinting his eyes as if to see better. Why the hell would Howell want to help him?

“C’mon,” Howell said, wiggling his fingers and leaning down a bit more. Phil began to raise his hand, ready to grasp the one in front of him, to be pulled out of the ditch, when an image flashed behind his eyes.

His hand, holding Howell’s. Rubbing his thumb. Soft, warm. Perfect.

Watching as he stiffened with pain, shook with it.

Phil yanked his hand back before they could touch, as if the very air around Howell had burned him. Howell gave him a wry look, one eyebrow raised.

“It’ll hurt you,” Phil insisted. Dan nodded, then shrugged, his hand still extended.

“And you’re stuck in a ditch. What else is new?” The shorter boy joked. Phil glared.

Howell leaned forward even more, as if he were going to grab Phil despite his refusal, and Phil scrambled backwards. Howell’s lip twitched, as if it were about to quirk into a smile, but he rolled his eyes.

“Come on. I can handle a few seconds’ pain. Not sure how much longer you can stand being in that ditch, though,” said Howell, his tone taunting.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Phil admitted in a mumble, avoiding eye contact. Howell scoffed.

“Do you want to get out of the ditch?”

“Isn’t there a branch you can find?” Phil asked desperately.

“Listen,” Howell said finally, crossing his arms. “You can either take my hand and let me pull you out, or you can make me drag you out, which will involve a lot more touching and pain on my part. What do you want?”

Phil was annoyed. Why was Howell even trying to help him anyway? It wasn’t like they were friends, or even remotely nice to each other. So what was he doing?

In reality, Phil knew that there weren’t any teachers around, and that any big enough branches were all the way in the forbidden forest, which only proceeded to make him more annoyed. This meant that Howell was only doing this out of the goodness of his own heart. That he was just being kind. Phil didn’t deserve that.

Plus, Phil could count on his hands the amount of times he’d touched Howell since that time in their first year. Sure, he still didn’t like Howell or anything, and sure, he was still mean to him on a pretty often basis (force of habit, really) but he was never mean enough to actually _touch_ him. He hated causing him pain. Or at least, the kind he could see anyway. He didn’t really mind calling him names and whatnot, though that hadn’t been happening very often lately either. Their sixth year so far had been rather peaceful and calm, and Phil got the distinct feeling that he was subconsciously trying to be a better person.

There’d been the first few times after the incident of Phil attacking Howell that they’d accidentally bumped into each other during class or in the hall, and Howell had hissed, jumping backward and looking scared and apprehensive, as if Phil would tackle him and reduce him to tears again. An apology was always on Phil’s lips, though he never let it get further than that, never let it be spoken.

He just couldn’t help feeling ill at the thought of touching Howell on purpose again. Of making him feel pain. His legs shook slightly as an unbidden image of Howell underneath him, screaming and writhing, rose into the forefront of his mind, which he was quick to shake off.

Suddenly, Howell’s eyes lowered into a determined glare, and he leaned forward, both hands reaching out, as if to pull Phil in by the shoulders. Phil didn’t want to cause him anymore pain than necessary though, and if holding his hand would make Howell hurt less, then that’s what Phil wanted to do.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Phil exclaimed, stumbling backwards again, his hand flinging out to catch himself, only to be buried in mud. “You can pull me out, all right?”

Howell nodded triumphantly, and held out his hand once more. Phil’s breath shook, remembering his dream, replaying it in his mind. He tentatively reached out, holding his arm away from both of their bodies. Away from Dan’s as he didn’t want to hurt him, and away from his own, because he was already feeling sick at what he was about to do. He’d have to amputate his arm if he ever wanted to feel better again.

With an annoyed huff, Howell leaned forward and took hold of his hand, immediately stiffening, but still holding strong. He tugged, and Phil worked with him, trying to ignore the sight, the queasy feelings clawing through his stomach, ripping through his back.

He was nearly at the top of the ditch, and then he’d be free. He just had to ignore Howell’s face, screwed up with pain. His hand was shaking around Phil’s, holding tighter as if to try and ignore the feeling flowing through it. Howell’s eyes were shut tight, and he appeared to be holding his breath, but he also seemed to be faring well, and with a final, great, hardy tug, Phil was free from the hole and sprawling forward, free of Howell’s hand and tripping to the ground.

Phil was covered in mud, and he was panting slightly. He carefully stood up, turning around to look at Howell, to make sure he was all right.

Howell was still standing before the ditch, which, right in front of Phil’s eyes, was shrinking smaller and smaller, until it was just a small dip in the ground. Stupid potion.

He watched as Howell took a shaky breath, before wiping his hands on the front of his cloak, as if he were wiping away the remnants of the pain. He then shoved them into his pockets, and shot Phil what could only be described as a watery smile, as his eyes shone with unshed tears.

Phil opened his mouth to say something, probably something stupid, like ‘thank you’ or ‘are you okay?’ but thankfully, Howell spoke first.

“Well, I gotta get to class. You’d better watch where you’re walking.”

And with that, the shorter boy spun on his heel and walked away. Phil didn’t know what he was feeling. His chest felt tight and he felt queasy again, but for an entirely different reason, and so, not knowing what else to do, Phil glared at the back of Dan Howell’s head.

And now here he was, ten minutes later, standing sopping wet, muddy, and frozen to the bone in the Entrance Hall. It would be a miracle if Filch didn’t kill him.

—

When Phil finally walked into transfiguration later that day, he’d already done two important things.

First, he had gone straight to his dorm and stripped out of his wet clothes. It had been directly into the hot shower for him, and then into dry, clean clothes.

Next, he’d found his worse-excuse for a best friend and yelled at her a bit. Zoe, of course, insisted that she hadn’t known the potion was a bad luck potion, and that she thought the only potion of that color and consistency was the wake up potion. Phil thought it was no wonder that she was failing potions, getting Trolls on most of her work, and didn’t know why he’d trusted her judgement on the matter in the first place. He never should’ve accepted the potion from her.

Still, it seemed to have been wearing off throughout the day. He’d lost every chess match they’d played, but by the end he was only losing by a little. Although, he usually lost at chess, so he guessed that really wasn’t much of a surprise. Plus he’d only broken one quill so far this day, and he easily could’ve snapped more (most days he did, anyway). He supposed he was thankful for the potion wearing off, but he couldn’t help being annoyed with Zoe, who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Now he trudged into the classroom, carelessly tossing his bag on his desk and resting his head atop it. His eyes drifted shut almost immediately, and he was reduced to listening to all the commotion around him, too busy trying to replenish whatever lost sleep he could in whatever spare minutes he could.

Without the help of an actual wake up potion, Phil found himself utterly exhausted, both from the sleepless night and the day’s events. He felt himself start to drift off, waiting for Professor McGonagall to arrive, but she appeared to be a bit late, and Phil couldn’t help it.

It was some time later, when he was half asleep, that he heard the word “partners” and “project”. In some semi-conscious part of his mind, he had the ability to feel apprehensive, wondering if the bad luck potion was still working on him. His half asleep mind didn’t latch onto the conversation happening though, or more like lecture, as it sounded like Professor McGonagall was assigning a project, and he was being thrust into a deeper sleep.

Phil looked down at the hand he was holding. It was soft, and warm, and he stroked the thumb of the hand. The hand started tugging on him, or more accurately, the person attached to the hand was pulling him upward, out of some sort of hole, but as he followed the arm connected to the hand, it stiffened, and tried to let go. Phil latched on, holding tighter, not wanting to fall but also wanted to see who owned the hand. He saw Howell, who’s face was scrunched up in pain, and then the hand was being tugged out of his, and he was falling, falling, falling…

He woke with a gasp, sitting up abruptly and swallowing the scream in his throat. It was a just a dream. It wasn’t anything, it wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Phil blinked tiredly, quite suddenly becoming aware that he was the center of attention, all the students, including Howell, turned in their seats to look at him.

“I, uh— sorry. What?” Phil muttered, clearing his sleep-thick voice. Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look.

“I _said_ , that you and Mr. Howell were to be partners. Howell objected, insisting that you would have a problem with that. You seemed too busy sleeping to notice this, however,” she said.

“Oh, er, no I’m fine with it. I’m fine,” he said, a fierce blush fighting to scramble up his cheeks. He blinked it away.

Honestly though? He wasn’t fine with it. How could he be? Forced to do a project with Dan Howell (assuming, of course, that his semi-conscious self had heard correctly) which would no doubt be in close proximity, which could easily end up with accidental touches. With Phil hurting Howell. Again. He was so sick of hurting him.

“Good,” McGongall said primly, before turning to another pair of students and assigning them. Phil slid his head tiredly back onto his desk. How long was this project going to take anyway? And what the hell was it even about?

From the table in front of him, he could hear Howell talking with his friends.

“It won’t be so bad Dan. He hasn’t even been very mean so far this year,” assured Tyler Oakley, reaching out to pat Howell’s arm. Howell shrugged.

“I know, I’m not worried. I just thought he’d be more upset about being my partner,” he said, and Louise, his neighbor, leaned over from a nearby table.

“I think you should just try to be nice to him, see how things go. Maybe you guys’ll even end up friends,” she said hopefully, and Phil resisted the urge to scoff loudly. Yeah, that was likely.

Howell shrugged again, and Louise turned to Tyler immediately, asking what their project should be about. Phil was still using his bag as a pillow, and even though his eyes were trained on Howell, they were quickly growing tired, and he nearly didn’t register Zoe talking beside him.

“…most unfortunate. Still, I’m sure some good can come out of it,” and she shot a smile at Phil, who smiled back, mostly as a reflex.

“You’re only so positive because you’re my partner. Phil’s partners with a _Gryffindor_ ,” said Chris dramatically, looking excited all the while. “Even worse: _Howell_!”

“I’m serious!” Insisted Zoe, fixating Chris with a glare. “If he could just…”

Phil tuned them out, letting his eyes slip closed once more. He pressed his face into his bag, debating the pros and cons of sleep and getting yelled at by McGonagall again, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up, dazed, blinking dark spots out of his eyes, which trained on Howell.

“Did you just _touch_ me?” Phil exclaimed, immediately sitting up straight, leaning away from the offending hand.

“Had to get your attention, didn’t I?”

“You could’ve said my name,” Phil informed, before standing up and rising to his full height, which was ginormous, compared to Howell at least.

“Thought you were asleep,” Howell muttered, before stepping back slightly, appearing intimidated. Phil guessed that was inevitable, seeing as he was staring almost straight up. Phil was six foot two, and Howell must’ve been somewhere around five foot three, as his head only came up to Phil’s shoulder.

Feeling generous, Phil leaned against the table, diminishing his height and slouching slightly, allowing himself to look less intimidating.

“So what do you want?” Phil asked, getting straight to the point. He was just going to ignore Howell’s stupidity, and the way he seemed to be insisting on hurting himself today.

“We’re partners,” Howell said, as if this explained anything.

“And?”

“I figured we should pick a topic.”

Phil hummed, tapping his finger on his desk and thinking. The topics seemed to be entirely random, as long as they were magical and able to be researched extensively.

“How about quidditch?” Phil suggested. “We could research all about brooms and rules and the balls and teams,” he went on, examining Howell’s face for an objection.

Phil loved quidditch, he played as seeker for the Slytherin team, which had won the house cup the last three years in a row, ever since he’d joined in third year. It wasn’t just because of him, of course, he couldn’t deny that he had a really amazing team. The best part wasn’t even playing though, in Phil’s opinion, anyway. It was the flying.

However, Phil assumed that doing any research project on a topic you loved would make it more fun, hence the suggestion.

“Okay,” Howell agreed, looking up into Phil’s eyes. Merlin, his neck must ache all the time from looking up at people. It made Phil feel a sudden, stark feeling of superiority and control, and he was glad for how tall he was, for how short Howell was.

“We’ll need to make a schedule, of course,” Howell began, “and we’ll have to make room for meals and everything and homework for other classes as well, not to forget your quidditch practices, but as this is to take at least a month we’ll need to…”

Phil blocked out his voice, staring at the shorter boy blankly as he continued to talk. He didn’t really care all that much about when they did it. Howell could figure that out.

For now, he just wanted to stare down at him, relishing in their height difference, and quelling the odd urge to step closer, to make Howell look up at him even more. Of course, he could always squat down a little, and then their faces would be even. Or Howell could find a stool.

Even if Howell stood on the tips of his toes, he wouldn’t come close to being Phil’s height. Howell’s eyes would probably be in line with his lips.

Phil figured that the only way they’d be of equal height would be if Howell sat on the table and Phil stood beside it. He felt a strange desire to grab Howell by the waist and place him right there now, simply so they could be eye to eye, but he ignored this urge. He ignored everything going through his mind.

Because no way would he ever be able to touch Howell, much less pick him up. Not unless he wanted to hurt him again. Not unless he wanted to be the person that he was trying oh so desperately not to be.


	7. Chapter 7

Dan was not particularly enthusiastic about working together with Phil Lester. He was no Ravenclaw, but he still felt it wasn’t very wise for him to work with his arch-nemesis. Any number of horrible things, or even painful things, could happen because of this, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the whole think hadn’t been rigged to begin with. McGonagall certainly had it out for him, she had ever since first year. Sometimes she seemed grudgingly impressed by Dan’s ability, seeing as transfiguration was the subject he was best in, and his favorite, despite the fact that she hated him. She would always cover up her approval with some sort of subliminal punishment, however, such as making him work with Phil. Dan sighed.

“I just don’t get why McGonagall hates you,” Tyler complained. They were walking around the lake, despite the fact that Dan usually was one to forego unnecessary exercise.

“Nearly murdered Lester in first year, remember?” Dan said bitterly. McGonagall hadn’t known everything that had happened when he and Phil were fighting, and still she’d given him an incredible punishment. He wondered vaguely if the curse would wear off once he left Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure if the school had the authority to put a curse on him for life.

“You were _eleven_!” Louise burst out. “You’re sixteen now! You’ve grown up a lot since then, it’s not fair that she’s still holding this grudge.”

While Dan couldn’t agree more, he also couldn’t help seeing things from McGonagall’s perspective. “But if she thinks an eleven year old is capable of murder, she must think that I’m capable of much worse by now.”

“Bitch,” Tyler added to the conversation. Louise was usually the one Dan went to for advice, and Tyler for when he wanted to rant. He would get mad at whoever Dan was mad at, which was always pretty comforting in itself. Today, his hair was purple, although he kept running his hands through it, which he usually did before he decided to change it.

“Let’s get your mind off it,” Troye suddenly piped in. He hadn’t been walking with them moments before, but he and Connor seemed to have appeared out of no where, even though it wasn’t possible to apparate on school grounds.

“We could go flying,” Connor suggested jokingly, immediately met by a barrage of scoffs.

“We’re trying to cheer Dan up, not give him a panic attack,” Louise defended, and Dan wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her to his side.

It was common knowledge with his friends that he was terrified of heights. He hadn’t always been, but it had originated right around the time when he and Lester had fought at the edge of the astronomy tower. Just thinking of being so high up gave him chills, not to mention the goosebumps that came with it.

He hadn’t known he was so scared of heights until the whole astronomy class had had to go up to the tower to complete their star charts. He’d been fine with heights previously, of course, but the higher they went up the winding stairs, the more the back of his neck had prickled, and the hair on his arms had raised. Dan hadn’t known what was happening, unable to get to the obvious conclusion of fear when he’d never felt that way about heights before.

When the class had emerged on the tower, his heart had been thudding in his chest, and all he could hear was the blood in his ears, which was surprising, seeing as most of it had drained out of his face, seeing how high off the ground they all were. Everyone went about their regular business, pulling out their star charts and sprawling out over the tower to complete them, a few daring kids even dangling their legs over the edge.

Dan hadn’t even been able to contemplate working on his star chart, not when the edge was so close, and death just as near. He’d backed into the wall of the tower, as far away from the edge as he could get, and slid to the floor, his fingers gripping the stones underneath him so tightly that they bruised. Distantly, he’d been able to feel himself shaking, and while he was semi-aware that the other first years had kept looking over at him, the majority of his focus had been centered on the fact that he was inches away from death and hundreds of feet above the ground.

Someone had touched his shoulder, and someone, who might’ve actually been himself, in retrospect, had whimpered at the contact. He was going to get shoved over the edge. He was eleven years old and he was going to die.

“Professor? I think Dan needs to get to the infirmary,” someone who sounded a lot like Louise said. She’d grabbed tightly onto his upper arm, and dragged him to his feet, despite the fact that he was shaking so hard he could barely stand. He’d felt dizzy, and the ground was rushing upwards and the sky falling down, threatening to crush him. Not to mention the fact that the edge of the tower was still _so close._

“Come on, Dan,” Louise had said softly, tugging him forward gently. He stumbled back towards the steps, best friend in tow, until he was finally going down them, getting away from the edge, the height, descending back towards the ground. When his head had cleared, he’d found himself taking great, sobbing breaths, before pressing himself against the wall, his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what just happened,” he’d muttered into his hands. Louise had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and continued to lead him away from the tower.

“I do,” said Louise helpfully. Somehow she always seemed to know everything, despite Dan was the one constantly holding a book. “Acrophobia: fear of heights.”

Ever since that day, Dan’s friends made sure to let him walk on the inside of staircases, pressed against the wall, so that he wouldn’t have to see over the edge of the stairs and witness the great fall awaiting him. He didn’t like all the stairs that Hogwarts had, nor the fact that they seemed to have a mind of their own, and moved with their own leisure, but his friends were always there to help. And if ever they had to go up a staircase that went straight through the open air, with a wall at neither side, they’d securely walk on each side of him, and Louise would wrap her arm around his waist, reminding him that they wouldn’t let him fall.

“Well what should we do?” Tyler asked, and Dan tuned back into the conversation, coaxed from his thoughts.

“The only thing Dan likes is the library,” Connor said, which Dan responded to with an offended ‘Hey!’

“It’s true,” Louise piped in, but with the way she squeezed Dan, he knew she was joking. Still, he muttered under his breath and pretended to be offended, much to his friends delight. They seemed to get some sort of kick out of him being a grumpy baby, in reference to his height, of course. It wasn’t his fault that he was shorter than all of them, and honestly, it was an advantage, if anything, seeing how many piggyback rides he’d received in his time.

“Why don’t we go to the kitchens?” Tyler suggested, to a chorus of no’s. Tyler shrugged.

“Swimming?” Connor suggested, in that teasing tone of his again, but received no answer besides the shove from Troye.

“We could catch up on our homework?” Louise suggested half-heartedly, in response to which everyone groaned. Everyone except Dan, however, who gasped.

“Shit!” He said suddenly, and everyone turned to look at him. “I’m supposed to meet Lester in the library! Shit!” And with that he bolted away from his friends and the fun afternoon they were likely to have. With him gone, he didn’t doubt that they’d soon be taking to the air on their brooms. He’d tried to sit in the stands before to simply watch them, but even those were too high, and he’d ended up stumbling down the stairs as quickly as he could and sinking to the ground the second he’d made it down safely. He could barely make out his friends from so low on the ground though, and had ended up going inside to do his homework. He never attended quidditch games, and the only time he watched was when he had the entire common room to himself while a game was going on out on the pitch, muffled commentary battering against the window.

Dan stumbled into the library, looking around wildly for a familiar black head of hair (occasionally orange when cursed). He finally spotted him in a secluded area of the library, hidden behind the towering shelves. He was sitting with Zoe Sugg, who had her feet propped up on the table, which Madam Pince would certainly not be happy about.

Spotting Dan, Lester crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, which caused Zoe to look over at him too. Lester looked tired, and the areas under his eyes looked slightly purple, but he always looked that way. Dan knew Zoe’s brother, Joe, who was in the year below him, and he insisted Zoe was actually wonderful and sweet, despite being in Slytherin. Nevertheless, Dan had always managed to give her the benefit of doubt, for Joe’s sake at least.

“You’re late,” Lester finally said, and Dan ran his hand through his hair sheepishly. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Lester was already speaking again. “I’m not going to carry your weight on this project. I don’t care how Gryffindors like to go about them, but Slytherins do an equal amount.”

“I don’t want you to carry my weight,” Dan insisted, stepping forward and pulling out a chair at the table. He sat next to Zoe, who was across from Lester.

“Good. Because I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Ugh,” Zoe said suddenly, scrunching up her nose. “You can smell the testosterone in here.”

“Shut up,” Lester told her, but he didn’t say it like he would’ve said it to Dan, and despite the unkind words, wore a grin on his lips. Zoe smirked back (it was scary how all the Slytherins seemed capable of the same scathing looks), her eyes glinting.

“What are you guys doing your project on, anyway?” She questioned. Dan noticed her long nails, painted a dark green to match her house. Despite the fact that they looked long enough to dig into his stomach and rip out his entrails, this conversation actually seemed to be quite civil so far, which was truly a miracle, seeing as these were _Slytherins_ he was conversing with.

“Quidditch,” he answered easily, and Zoe looked over at him. Her eyes seemed calculating, but not altogether cold. “I’m friends with your brother, by the way,” he added, with a nod toward the girl. She immediately lit up.

“See!” Zoe said, turning brightly towards Lester. The cold, Slytherin atmosphere seemed to dissipate, making Dan wonder if it was mostly a show, put on for the enjoyment of opposing houses. “Joe’s not bad! You should hang out with us!” She insisted, and Lester rolled his eyes.

“You want me to trust the opinion of _you_ , his sister, and a Gryffindor?” Lester said incredulously. Dan opened his mouth to object, when Lester continued, “and not just any Gryffindor, but _Howell_?”

“Hey!” Dan finally did object, but was altogether ignored by the two Slytherins.

Zoe seemed to be debating internally, her gaze sliding from Dan to Lester, as if deciding whether she should take Dan’s side because he was friends with her brother, or Lester’s because they were Slytherins and Dan was the, apparent, enemy.

“I trust Dan,” Zoe said finally, raising her hand to pat him approvingly on the shoulder. “I’ll trust anyone my brother’s friends with.”

Lester glared viciously at her, seeing as she happened to be getting chummy with his sworn enemy (though he’d been a lot less mean to Dan insults-wise this year), and muttered something in response, which sounded a lot like, “well I guess you shouldn’t trust me then.”

“Anyway, I’d much rather stay for a bit while you guys do your quidditch projects. Chris wants to do ours on wizard sex, says it’ll be educational,” Zoe scoffed, picking at her nails.

Dan spluttered in response, feeling his face go red. He and his friends had rarely ever mentioned sex to each other, and hearing it mentioned so wantonly… and for a _school project…_

“Don’t be such a prude,” Lester laughed, exchanging a grin with Zoe. “Although, it _could_ be really educational. Not a lot of people our age know a lot about sex between wizards, nor the safety precautions or consequences,” he pondered. Zoe just laughed.

“I know, but what does he think he’s gonna do for the hands-on part of the research? _I’m_ definitely not having sex with him,” she informed, her tone still joking. Dan wasn’t sure that he’d ever been so red in his life.

“I think Howell would benefit from your research, at least. It doesn’t seem like he knows anything,” Lester said, and Dan glared at him.

“Of course I do!” He said fiercely. “I just don’t talk about as openly.”

“Prude,” Lester taunted.

“Sex addict,” Dan rebutted, at which Lester and Zoe exchanged a grin.

“Virgin,” Lester quipped. Dan blushed. The two Slytherins howled with laughter, but Dan just rolled his eyes,

“Can we work on our project now?” He begged, and Lester finally nodded, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. At least he was more tolerable when he had a friend around.

They decided to start their research with brooms. They were pretty much the most important part of the sport, seeing as it was played in the air. Dan went off to collect a few books about brooms he’d seen before in the B section (he’d been looking up boils for fun, which were a big part of plenty of hexes and reactions to a lot of potions and were interesting enough) and returned to the table to find Lester already buried in a book.

Dan sat back at the table beside Zoe, who was entertaining herself by making first year’s books slide further down the table every time they weren’t looking, and cracked open his own books. He pulled out a quill and parchment, diligently taking notes about whatever struck him as interesting or particularly important. He wrote down a lot about what times of woods were commonly used in brooms (similar to wands) and which spells and enchantments one was likely to find engraved in a broom. They really were quite interesting, and Dan probably could’ve spent a long time simply reading about them.

It was to his great disappointment, then, when Lester interrupted his reading.

“We’ve got to go, Zo,” He informed Zoe, who glanced over at them, evidently forgetting about the book she’d been levitating above a third year’s head. Dan heard a distinct smack followed by a groan, though it didn’t even draw Zoe’s attention.

“Where to?” She pouted, and Lester grinned in response.

“Hands-on research,” he informed, and Zoe nodded, but turned back to the table, pulling Dan’s open copy of _Which Broomstick?_ towards herself.

Dan wasn’t quite sure what hands-on research was, or what it would consist of. Zoe had mentioned not wanting to have sex with Chris for her research, although Dan’s project wasn’t on sex. Maybe Lester expected them to examine some brooms in person? To test the charms and enchantments, to measure the sticks, to trim the twigs? He kept ahold of his parchment and quill as he followed Lester out of the Entrance Hall and onto the grounds, heading towards the quidditch pitch.

He’d never been in the quidditch changing rooms before, which were positioned right by the quidditch pitch, but he followed Lester into there too. He wondered what it would be like to be on the quidditch team, not scared of flying but simply enjoying the thrill of it, to come here with his teammates afterward, cheering at their win or groaning at their loss. Lester had that.

The changing rooms weren’t that big, but there were little lockers to store your robes in when you changed into your quidditch ones, and a rack on the wall, on which plenty broomsticks hung. There was also a door leading to the bathroom, through which he could see stalls and showers.

Dan watched as Lester snatched all the brooms off the rack and walked right back out of the changing room.

“So we’ll test all these brooms and then take notes about them,” Lester informed once Dan had followed him out of the small building. Dan looked on in confusion.

“How should we test them?” He asked. “Wood types, tail length? Weight and width?”

Lester looked at him incredulously, before laughing loudly, bending over and clutching his stomach. Still gasping for breath, he managed to sputter, “and I th-thought you didn’t have a sense of h-humor! Ha!”

Dan stared at him blankly, feeling confused and a little bit offended. Lester finally straightened up, his laughs dissipating, and looked at Dan as if he were an idiot.

“You’re joking, right?” He said finally.

“Uh,” Dan responded intelligently, still not quite understanding just what was so funny. Did the broom size and weight not actually matter for how well the broom flew? Was he totally out of his zone and getting everything wrong? Sure, he’d never actually flown on a broom before, but he still understood the logistics of it.

Lester continued to stare at him, gaping, before he said finally, “we’re going to _fly_ the brooms!”

It took a moment for these words to sink into Dan’s brain, and he stood stock still, not sure how he should react outwardly. A good ‘just kidding!’ and a laugh would probably do him good, but he wasn’t sure he could open his mouth without hydro-pumping all over the brooms in front of him. Fly? As in, on a broom? As in, _high up in the air?_

Dan could feel the blood draining out of his face and hiding in his toes, as if it could hold him down firmly on the ground if it put enough weight there. Dan thought it was a good idea anyway, but he knew Lester wouldn’t. He’d make fun of Dan vehemently if he discovered this, that Dan was terrified of heights and brooms and anything more than five feet off the ground. Plus, he might think that Dan was just trying to push off extra work oh him, which was not the Slytherin way, as Phil had so delightfully told him.

Swallowing the spit that had gathered in his mouth, seeing as his throat had decided to stop working, Dan responded, his voice an active higher than usual, “oh yeah, flying. I forgot.” He forced a weak laugh out of his mouth, one that fell to the ground and died promptly at his feet.

Lester was still eyeing him warily, but he picked up two brooms, tossed one to Dan, and mounted the other, shooting into the air all in a matter of five seconds. Dan was left standing on the ground, his legs shaking violently and his mouth tasting distinctly of bile. He gripped the broom tightly in his hands, trying to review all the books he’d read on flying, all the times he’d seen his friends kick off the ground before, rising easily into the air.

“You coming or what?” Lester yells from the air, and he was so high up, his robes were flapping around him, threatening to pull him off with the wind. His body was getting smaller and smaller the higher he went.

Dan didn’t trust himself to speak, so he carefully mounted the broom, holding it securely in his hands. His fingers were white he was holding on so hard, and he hadn’t even gotten into the air yet. He took a deep breath and relaxed his grip, reminding himself that his friends did this nearly every day, and none of them had fallen off yet.

With eyes clenched tight and heart beating rapidly in his chest, Dan kicked hard at the ground, biting his tongue sharply when he actually felt his body rise, the ground slipping away beneath his feet. Even more jarring than the fact that he was no longer safely on the ground, was the fact that the broom had thrummed to life underneath him, and was vibrating between his fingers. Not only was it vibrating where he was holding it, however, as he could feel the vibrations even between his legs.

Fighting both embarrassment from the somewhat pleasurable feeling and absolute terror at the fact that he was drifting slowly away from the ground, and had no idea how to even work a broom, he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the ground getting smaller, nor Lester above him. Oh Merlin he didn’t want to see anything at all, he just wanted to be back on the ground, preferably curled up in a ball where his violent shaking wouldn’t lead to the possibility of falling off and dying.

“Scared of a broom, Howell?” Lester taunted, his voice sounding closer than before. Dan hoped viciously that this was because he had decided to come closer to the ground, instead of meaning that Dan had drifted high enough to be within hearing range. Just thinking of how high he could possibly be made him grip the broom harder in terror. And while his hands had no problem doing this, he found that as he squeezed his thighs tighter together, trying to stay securely on the broom, the pleasurably sensations became sharper, and it was without surprise that he found himself hard.

Hard and terrified for his life. Ironic.

Finally, Dan made himself wrench his eyes open, knowing he was making no progress, letting himself float along at the wind’s whim. This, however, was a mistake, as he learned that he could see the tops of the trees and not make out a single blade of grass, and he found a whimper rising in his throat. Boner killer for sure.

Dan leaned closer to the broom, trying to clutch it to himself, to ensure himself that he wouldn’t fall. This made the broom start to move forward though, and he gasped in surprise and fear. He just wanted to stay still. No, he wanted to descend to the ground and hold onto it as tightly as possible. He would never stand again, he’d just keep his face pressed firmly agains the grass for the rest of his life, and there’d be no threat of him falling or getting hurt ever again. He’d never have to see the world from anywhere but directly on top of it, just the way it should be. Humans weren’t made to be anywhere off the ground.

He could feel himself shaking, his throat tightening, the wind rushing in his ears and his heart thudding up somewhere in his throat. He was on the very edge of a panic attack, and had absolutely no confidence that he could make it to the ground without falling. Plus, he’d always seen people return to the ground by leaning forward, having their brooms point downward. He couldn’t have that. He’d slide right off the broom, and his face would smack into the ground and he’d break his neck and die.

“What are you doing?” Dan heard Lester say, still not very close to him. Or at least, it didn’t sound like he was. Dan didn’t even try to answer, he could feel his insides trying to claw their way out through his mouth, and he wasn’t quite ready to grant them the permission to do that.

Dan started writing his will in his mind. He’d give all his clothes to Tyler, they were about the same size and Tyler was already stealing his shit anyway, it made sense. He’d leave his wand for Troye, who was constantly misplacing his and dropping it behind furniture on accident, making the whole Gryffindor house tear apart their common room in search for it. He’d give his cat, which he’d bought for himself at the beginning of this year, to Louise, who was absolutely obsessed with it already. It was a black cat, and its name was Blinds, thanks to Louise, who thought it was hilarious. Now it only responded to that, however, and so the name had stuck. It liked Louise more than him anyway, and spent just as much time, if not more, with her than with Dan. For Connor, Dan would leave his duvet, because he was constantly complaining that he was cold and his dorm mates were absolutely sick of it.

Will sorted, Dan remembered that he couldn’t really breathe. Was that because he had drifted so high that the air had thinned and the oxygen was becoming non-existent, or was it because he was terrified and his entire body felt numb and swollen and he was on the brink of death? Unbidden, another whimper had found its way past Dan’s throat.

“Howell? Howell, look at me!” Lester called, and this time his voice sounded very close. Dan fought against his very instincts and peeked through his lashes, trying to block out everything but the person in front of him, who for some reason wanted his attention.

“Are you okay?” He asked, as if they were friends or that he would even remotely care if Dan wasn’t. Dan could probably admit that he wasn’t, although that might also end in Lester shoving him off his broom for fun. And sure, while the broom absolutely sucked and was the exact definition of a horrible time, falling freely through the air sounded even worse.

Dan forced his head to move jerkily up and down, even though his eyes were still practically clenched shut and his body was stiff holding tightly the broom. He didn’t doubt that his face was pale too, as he had a feeling all his blood had retreated to the very center of him, hiding.

“No you’re not! What’s wrong?” Lester insisted, and, swallowing the likely beginnings of vomit, Dan opened his mouth.

“Fine,” he grunted, practically indecipherable to his own ears, not to mention what it sounded like to Lester.

Despite the fact that Lester was directly in front of him and likely examining his every move, he couldn’t deny the terror running shallowly through his veins, and so he shut his eye once more, and again tried to hug the broom to his body, holding on as tightly as he could. He feared the broom might snap, he was holding on so tight.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Lester said calmly, evenly, and without a hint of malice. Deciding that he could deal with the barrage and insults later, and now get down to the ground safely and actually live to be insulted at the later date, he wrenched his eyes open and nodded shakily.

Lester cleared his throat, and he didn’t look at all like what Dan would expect him to in a situation like this, cocky and important-looking, not to mention that he was the star seeker. He looked reasonable and trust-worthy and like he was going to help Dan get back to the ground.

“Okay,” Lester said, his voice firm but not mean. Commanding but not harsh. “If you sit up a bit straighter, and push your hands down lightly against the handle, it’ll start to float downward. While it’s going town, pull it carefully to one side, and you’ll drift down in slow circles.”

Dan realized that Lester could’ve been tricking him, and that this could’ve been the way you actually convinced the broom to take a sharp and steep dive, but he had no better instructions, and Lester didn’t seem like he was trying to take advantage of Dan’s fear.

He leaned backward and pressed down lightly, feeling the broom tip slightly underneath him, leaning towards the ground. He pulled it to the right a bit, and he started spiraling down slowly. His chest was still tight, as if someone had shoved their hand into his chest and squeezed his ribs together, but he couldn’t deny that he was getting closer to the ground, and that he hadn’t fallen off yet.

Dan gasped when a gust of wind jerked him a bit toward the side, and he seized up, halting the movements of his broom and clutching it tighter. Lester was descending slowly with him, even though Dan had seen him return to the ground in ten seconds flat before.

“Keep going,” Lester said, sending a worried glance at the ground, still quite a ways below them. Dan got the distinct feeling that the quickly picking up wind was making him nervous, which only made Dan panic more.

“If you press down on the handle a bit harder, you’ll descend a bit faster,” Lester said, and Dan took this as a hint. Get to the ground faster.

He started the process again, leaning back and pressing down, pulling to the right, but the wind was tugging at his clothes, and his broom kept shuddering underneath him. At one point a great gust of wind sent his broom skittering to the side, and he’d desperately thrown himself lower upon it. He could feel his hair whipping around his face, and could hear Lester calling his name.

“Keep going down, c’mon, we’re almost there,” Lester assured, but he was wrong, he was so wrong, the ground was so far away and the wind was so strong and Dan was so scared.

“You can do it,” Lester said, flying closer to Dan. The wind was tearing at his robes as well, but he didn’t seem nearly as ruffled as Dan. He wasn’t scared. He was completely calm.

“I’m gonna die,” Dan admitted, wondering briefly if he should’ve left something for Lester in his will too. He had tried to save him, after all, during his last moments. Even if the wind had been too vicious, too strong.

“No you’re not, you’re going to be fine,” Lester informed, and Dan sighed shakily, ready to try was again. It was as he was leaning back, his hands pressing down, when the wind really picked up, running rampant around them, tossing Dan this way and that. He had no hope other than to clutch his broom as tightly as he could, and he could see Lester holding his tightly too, although looking considerably less scared than Dan was.

Dan opened his mouth to say anything, to call for help, perhaps, when the wind started pushing him, forcing his broom further away from Phil. He was headed straight for the forbidden forest, the wind battering him from all sides, as Phil fought against it, trying to catch up with him.

A sob found its way out of Dan’s mouth as the wind jerked him higher into the air, closer to the forest. They were so far away from the quidditch pitch now.

“Dan!” Lester called. _“Dan!”_ It was jarring, hearing Lester say his first name instead of his last, and he got the distinct impression that he’d heard it before, though he wasn’t sure where.

Following whatever sort of memo this was, or perhaps just letting the rampant terror take control of his body, he called back, “Phil!”

Finally, a choked sob forced its way into the open, and Dan’s head was bent over his body, shaking with the sobs wracking his frame. He was going to die. He was _literally going to die!_

“Phil!” Dan shouted again, as his broom took to tumbling in air, his body going end over end, tears squeezing between his eyelids and dripping into his mouth, already open because he was screaming. He could still hear Phil calling after him, but when he opened his eyes, all he saw was forest.

And it was coming closer to him.

And closer.

It was funny really. After being so terrified of falling, Dan thought he would’ve noticed when he actually was.


	8. Chapter 8

Watching Howell on a broom was not as amusing as Phil had assumed it'd be. He'd thought that they'd both be up in the air, Phil outstripping him quickly and easily, thanks to his supreme quidditch skills. That Howell would be trying pitifully to keep up, shaky and the air and trying to be better despite his lack of skill. Howell had barely even gotten into the air, however, and Phil hadn't felt any glee or excitement at all.

It'd been hard watching Howell struggle with the broom. There'd first been the fact that they'd both been standing on the ground, and then Phil was shooting into the air, only to look back and see the Gryffindor still planted firmly on the ground, his hands locked tightly onto the broom.

When he had, eventually, made it into the air, his body had immediately freezed, seizing and tightening up. He looked completely unnatural, as hard as the broom, which everyone knew was a horrible way to ride one. You were supposed to be soft and pliant, persuading the broom easily. Howell had looked terrified just holding the broom, which was nothing to how he looked when he was actually in the air.

He hadn't been able to control the broom at all, apparently, which made Phil conclude that he'd never even ridden one. His broom had risen slowly but steadily into the air, higher and higher, and Howell had gripped it in a death grip, which the broom surely hadn't liked. It'd gotten to the point that Phil had felt he had to offer his help.

"Are you okay?" he'd asked, and with Howell's eyes still clenched almost all the way shut, he'd nodded imperceptibly.

"No you're not! What's wrong?" he'd insisted, and Howell had muttered something that he couldn't quite hear, but his face was positively green, and vomit was surely on the horizon.

Piecing it together, Phil finally asked, "are you afraid of heights?"

Howell's eyes had shot open, looking immediately relieved and grateful. He'd nodded again, and looking closer, Phil could see that his whole body was shaking in terror.

Phil had tried to lead him back to the ground, he really had, but Howell wasn't good at flying, and the weather wasn't helping at all. He'd tried to keep calm, to not show how worried and anxious he was feeling as the wind picked up, as even his broom began to feel imbalanced and hard to control. He'd longed desperately to just grab Howell off his broom and return him safely to the ground, but he knew it was impossible. It would hurt Howell too much, and who's to say the pain wouldn't make him jerk and shake, only to fall the far fall down to the ground? Phil wanted to cause him as little pain as possible.

It was terrifying when the wind started to drag Howell away, Phil helplessly following, not knowing what to do.

"Dan!" he'd called impulsively, and Howell— Dan, had made eye contact with him briefly. His eyes were wide, terrified, and then he'd tumbled over, end over end, screams and mangled sobs reaching Phil's ears despite the harsh wind.

 _"Dan!"_ he'd yelled again, powerless and scared.

"Phil!" Dan had screamed, and then again once more, before his broom was spinning wildly through the air, and Dan was thrown off it, tumbling through the air, into the trees.

Phil’s mind was instantly, viciously blank. His heart stopped altogether as he fought to process what the hell had just happened, as he stared into the trees that Dan had disappeared into.

Finally, a gasp ripped itself out of his chest, and he was diving, faster than he’d ever dived before, all the while screaming for Dan, panic having captured his insides and squeezed them, twisted them all together.

Several branches and leaves slashed and cut his face and hands as he dove through the thick foliage into the forest, which was considerably darker than the air above it. Phil hadn’t really been thinking when he’d flown directly into the trees though, and so it was somewhat predictable when his broom snagged on a large branch, before being yanked out from under him, and he was falling, smacking against tree branches, before he landed heavily on the ground, groaning.

“Howell?” he managed to mutter, before prying his eyes open and looking around. There weren’t any signs that anyone other than him had fallen here, and looking up, he could see only the broken tree trail caused by him.

Phil shakily got to his feet, ignoring the various aches and pains throughout his body. His back was especially sore, and he was pretty sure that he had a pretty large cut on the outside of his thigh, but there was no time to inspect it. Besides, verified with a quick check in his pockets, Phil realized that his wand had fallen out of his robes as he’d fallen.

“Hello?” Phil called, against his better judgement. He knew of all the sorts of things that lived in the Forbidden Forest, and he never would’ve come in here had Dan not fallen in.

“Help. . .” said Dan, presumably, in a quiet voice. Phil frantically looked around, trying and failing to spot his project partner. He peered all around the thick trunks of the towering trees around him, growing tall and close together.

“Howell? Where are you?” Phil said loudly, still trying to err on the side of caution.

“It hurts. . .” Dan whimpered in reply, which made Phil look even harder, sprinting around all the trees near him, peering back and forth, retracing his steps. He was panicking, and he knew it was no use, would do him no good, not when he and an apparently injured Dan were stuck out in the middle of the forest, with Phil absent of even a wand.

“Phil. . .” Dan whimpered, and finally, _finally_ , Phil looked up.

Dan was half obscured by branches and leaves, sitting a few feet over Phil’s head. At first, Phil felt only relief to have found Dan, but slowly, a cold trace of horror crawled through him at just what exactly he was seeing.

It was Dan, not sitting on the thick branch, but visibly impaled on it. There were smaller, thinner branches coming out of the one Dan was sitting on, and one of these such branches had gone directly through his thigh, leaving him stuck up in the tree and no doubt in intense pain.

Phil was in shock. What was he even supposed to do? He couldn’t touch Dan for fear of hurting him even more, not to mention that Dan could worsen his injury if he tried to jerk away or something. And Phil couldn’t possibly go to get help, not if it meant leaving Dan here at the mercy of all the beasts in the forest, stuck on a branch and bleeding onto the ground.

“What do I do?” Phil whispered to himself, still staring at Dan in horror, who, after closer examination, didn’t even appear to know that Phil was standing below him. His body was shaking, likely going into the effects of shock, which couldn’t be good, and he seemed to have been calling out for Phil, not even because he was there, but perhaps because he couldn’t think of anyone better.

“Wand,” Phil said aloud, determinedly. He wouldn’t go into shock, he couldn’t afford to, not when Dan so obviously needed his help. Phil would have to be strong for the both of them. He’d have to think like a Ravenclaw and behave like a fucking Gryffindor to save Dan, which was making him feel quite like a Hufflepuff. Stupid Sorting Hat. “I need a wand.”

Phil’s wand was gone. Lost somewhere on the forest floor or stuck in a tree, hopefully not broken. But he still needed a wand, and his best bet was that Dan had managed to hang on to his as he fell.

With newfound determination flowing forcefully through his veins, Phil set off, climbing up the tree, encouraged to go faster by Dan’s whimpers and quiet pleas for help. It made Phil’s heart hurt, how Dan was so obviously not okay, and that he didn’t even seem to realize that Phil was there to help him, that he wasn’t alone.

When Phil finally got to Dan’s branch, his hands now covered in fresh scrapes, Dan seemed shocked to see him. His eyes had a hard time focusing on Phil, and he reached out, as if to touch him, but Phil leaned carefully backward, not willing to let Dan get hurt.

“I’m here, Howell,” Phil said calmly, trying to tamp down the horror and fear that he was actually feeling, for Dan’s sake, at least.

“Hurts,” Dan whimpered, and while there was no doubt that he was talking about the branch protruding from his leg, there was no denying the other various injuries he’d acquired, like the scrapes over his face and rips in his robes, the cuts under the rips in his robes.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m here now,” Phil informed, and Dan nodded shakily, taking deep breaths. It appeared he hadn’t actually gone into shock yet, and Phil was going to have to make sure he didn’t. “Do you have your wand?”

“Cloak,” Dan breathed, and drunkenly nodded downward, as if to indicate the pockets of his robes.

Phil carefully, making sure not to touch Dan, pulled his robes slightly away from his body, before reaching into the pocket to grab the wand. It was warm in his hand, and he gripped it firmly before raising it into the air and saying, “ _Accio_ wand!”

Luckily, as Phil hadn’t been sure where his wand had landed or if it’d even come back in one piece, his wand flew toward him from the ground, and he caught it deftly out of the air. Switching wands, he used his own to summon both his broom and the one Dan had fallen off of, feeling immensely relieved when they floated to him, apparently undamaged.

“Hate brooms,” Dan muttered, when they came to a stop beside them in the air. Phil ignored this, instead concentrating on the branch sticking out of Dan. He certainly couldn’t pull it out and risk the blood loss that Dan would no doubt suffer, so he’d have to cut it. Phil used a severing charm and carefully cut the smaller branch from the larger one, so Dan was still impaled but no longer stuck to the tree.

“I’m going to help you, Howell,” Phil said, trying to get Dan to concentrate on him. He seemed kind of delirious, and Phil couldn’t deny that he was worried, but he couldn’t give up now. “But I can’t touch you, remember?”

When Dan didn’t answer, Phil prompted him again. “Remember?”

“Yes,” Dan muttered. “It hurts.”

Phil wasn’t sure if he was talking about when they touched, or of the branch currently ensnared in his thigh, but Phil assumed that he understood well enough.

“Since we can’t touch, I’m gonna need you to help me. You’ll have to be brave,” Phil stated, still talking calmly and clearly, as if to a child. Dan said something under his breath that Phil couldn’t quite catch.

“What?”

“‘M a Gryffindor,” Dan slurred, and while he still seemed entirely too out of it, he also managed to grin as he said this, though he was wincing all the while.

“Ready?” Phil said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the two brooms, stuck them together with a sticking charm, and slid them under Dan. “Try to lift up,” he said, and Dan used his arms, holding himself slightly above the thick branch, and allowed Phil to situate the brooms underneath him.

Once Dan was sitting on the brooms, holding on tightly and looking scared and in pain, Phil began to climb down the tree one handed, the other holding onto the handles of the brooms, dragging them closer to the ground. The trees were too close together to fly out, and Dan couldn’t even fly a broom, anyway, so their only hope was to find their way out of the forest on foot. Dan being tugged along by Phil, of course, seeing as he couldn’t walk.

“Do you know the way out?” Dan asked, who was thankfully seeming to be coming to, despite the pain he was still in.

Phil wasn’t entirely sure. He knew that they couldn’t be that far into the forest, but if he chose to walk in the wrong direction they could get seriously lost, and it was possible that no teachers even knew where they were, or if they could find them if they did. The only person who knew that they were out flying was Zoe, and she was used to Phil staying out late often, seeing as he barely slept anyway, so she wouldn’t bat an eye if he didn’t turn up by the time she went to sleep.

“I need to climb a tree, see if I can see the castle. Will you be okay sitting down here?” Phil asked, and regardless of the unease in his eyes, Dan nodded.

It wasn’t easy climbing the tree. Dan had been pretty low down, so it hadn’t been very hard to retrieve him, but this was an entire tree he was scaling. And though he’d never been scared of heights when on a broom, it wasn’t as easy to reach for a branch and see the ground far below him and not have his blood thrum in his ears. Plus there was the fact that his entire body was still aching from his fall through the trees, and Phil was sure that if there was any less adrenaline coursing through his body he’d be curled up on the forest floor.

He periodically looked down at Dan to make sure he was faring all right. Dan held himself tentatively on the brooms he was sitting on, both because of his injury along with his fear of brooms, Phil guessed.

When he finally reached the top of the tree, the branches thin and bendy under his weight, he peered through the leaves, turning this way and that for a glimpse of Hogwarts. He couldn’t see the castle from where he was though, and so he climbed back under the thick layers of leaves, preparing to call down to Dan and suggest that he climb another tree.

Except for the fact that he couldn’t see Dan, of course. Phil was immediately climbing back down the tree, slipping from every other branch and giving himself a myriad of new injuries. He was nearly to the ground when he saw it, weaving between the trees and holding the end of Dan’s broomsticks in it’s hand: a centaur.

Phil knew that centaurs weren’t particularly hostile, but he also knew that they resented trespassers, that they didn’t like humans invading their spaces. Phil didn’t know what to do, he was immediately drawing a blank, and the best that he _could_ do was follow Dan.

He followed from the trees. He picked his way carefully and quietly through the trees, crawling from the branches and nearly falling several times. As he got closer, he could hear Dan speaking. . .

“Please sir, where are you taking me? I’m injured I need to get back to the castle,” his voice sounded thin and weak, fear tangling with pain. The centaur didn’t answer. “I- I didn’t mean to trespass in your territory, I fell from a broom. . .” Dan trailed off, apparently giving up, and looked around helplessly. Eventually he looked skyward and made eye contact with Phil, and something like relief passed over his face.

Dan gasped when the brooms were jostled, his leg likely throbbing with pain, and he whimpered. Phil tried desperately to keep up, but the centaur was much faster than him, especially as he had a clear path and Phil had to climb from tree to tree. If the centaur didn’t stop soon, Phil would fall behind.

Finally the centaur spoke, though his deep, rumbling voice only managed to make Phil more anxious. “Call your friend down from the trees,” he said, before looking exactly at Phil, who nearly slipped from the branch he was on.

“How did you know I was here?” Phil gasped, staying firmly up in the branches. No way was he getting closer to the centaur, putting both himself along with Dan in the line of danger.

“Centaurs have excellent hearing, and you’re not as stealthy as you’d like to believe. It is not wise to disobey a centaur, human. If I were less forgiving I could’ve killed you twice by now, and your injured friend many more times.” Phil was quick to take the hint, and he scrambled down from the tree, cautiously approaching Dan and the centaur, who was no longer holding onto Dan’s brooms.

Phil grabbed the broom and pulled Dan beside him, who looked like he was about to hug him before he remembered their predicament.

“We didn’t mean to trespass,” Phil informed, trying to sound civil and not terrified out of his mind. He had to get Dan back to the castle as soon as possible. What if his wound got infected? What if they’d waited too long and Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix it? “Please let us go.”

“Of course I’m going to let you go,” the centaur said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “I have no interest in kidnapping children. Besides, your school would certainly find out and I’d be punished. No, I only wish to help.”

“Strange way to help,” Dan muttered under his breath, probably only meant for Phil’s ears, though he seemed to have forgotten about the centaur’s enhanced hearing.

“If you wished to help, why didn’t you take us back to the castle? We need a healer,” Phil said, and the centaur continued to regard him cooly.

“I do not wish to aid you with such trivial matters as flesh and blood. _That_ I’m sure you can manage on your own. I’m only here to inform you of what the stars informed _me_.”

Phil didn’t understand. What could they possibly need help with right now other than Dan’s injury? Other than being lost in the Forbidden Forest with crazed creatures and psychopathic centaurs?

“What else is there to help us with?” Phil questioned.

“Your curse,” the centaur said, but this time he was looking at Dan. “I only deign to befell this information to the Cursed One’s ears, though he can tell later you if he so wishes,” said the centaur, shooting Phil a look.

“Then why’d you call me down? Why didn’t you just tell him while I was in the trees?”

The centaur looked confused, as if Phil had just said something stupid. “The Cursed One’s heart was beating much too furiously. It’s calmed down significantly with you by his side.”

And then the centaur stepped beside Dan, and cupped his hand around his mouth, whispering into Dan’s ear. Dan nodded and hummed and blushed, and finally the message seemed to get across, and the centaur nodded satisfactorily.

“Your school lies to the north,” the centaur said unhelpfully, and then pointed a finger, more helpfully. Dan and Phil both nodded, and then the centaur gave them a parting jerk of his head, before he offered a small vial “for the injury” and turned and galloped off. Phil didn’t press Dan for the information the centaur had given him, and Dan didn’t offer it, though he did swallow the suspicious potion, and his pained look eased a little.

Phil set off, keeping one hand firmly on the brooms. Night was beginning to fall, and while this was stressful in itself, he was comforted by the fact that he knew which way to go. The centaur could’ve been lying, of course, but they had no better hope.

The brooms kept bouncing and bobbing under Dan’s weight, seeing as he shifted every few minutes. Phil eventually turned back to check on him, though he immediately filled with worry, seeing Dan’s face.

“Howell, what the hell? Are you okay?” Phil asked instantly, and Dan’s eyes shot open, seeing as they had been half lidded, his head slightly tilted back. His face was flushed and red, and his hair was a bit sweaty and sticking to his forehead.

“Y-yeah,” Dan replied, hurriedly mopping his sweaty hair out of his face. He tried to school his expression into one of normalcy, but Phil wasn’t one to be fooled.

“You’re lying! What’s wrong?” Phi insisted, and if it was possible, Dan’s face reddened even more.

“Nothing, seriously! Can we just keep going? I think we’re almost there.” They were getting pretty close, the trees had thinned considerably and the moonlight was filtering through easily.

“Is it your leg? Does it hurt?”

“Obviously.”

“More than before though?”

“No.”

Phil had no idea what was wrong with Dan. If nothing with his leg had changed, then why did he look so out of it? His face so red? So sweaty and flustered?

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Phil said seriously, and this time he stopped walking entirely. Dan whimpered. “Was it the centaur’s potion?”

“No. I just want to get back to the school, okay?”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Phil said, and Dan let out a little helpless sob.

“It’s embarrassing,” he mumbled, almost unintelligibly, into his hands.

“What is it?” Phil persisted.

“It’s just— the brooms, they, uh,” he muttered, before saying really fast, “they just keep vibrating and well— I just- I can’t help it, and—” Dan gasped, suddenly.

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Phil, and he was blushing too. “That happened to me when I first rode brooms too, but it stops happening when you get used to it.”

Dan still looked embarrassed, but he nodded slightly, and then cleared his throat. “Can we keep going then? And, uh, hurry? Please?”

Phil abruptly turned around and tugged Dan with him, hiding his flaming face. He’d never been so near to someone who was close to an orgasm before, and while he was undeniably interested and intrigued, he also knew how embarrassed he would feel in Dan’s situation.

Knowing what he did now, Phil couldn’t help the way he blushed ever time he felt Dan shift on the brooms. He was even becoming more aware of Dan’s slightly uneven, heavier breathing.

Phil tried to keep up the fast pace, but the faster he went, the more the brooms jostled, and the slower he went, the more time Dan would have to spend aroused and getting closer and closer to coming on a broom.

Dan whimpered suddenly, and against his better judgement, or possibly because he was a simultaneously curious and horrible person, Phil turned around, “still okay?”

Dan had only just begun to nod when he froze suddenly and whimpered again. “Oh no,” he muttered, a look of horror overcoming his face. “Oh no oh no ohnohn— _oh_!”

He gasped sharply, and then jerked, and his body was shuddering, and he was throwing his face into his hands and emitting a muffled moan, half pleasure, half complete mortification.

Phil felt slightly embarrassed, just for being present to witness it as well as knowing how embarrassed Dan must feel, but he also felt a bit turned on, which was even more embarrassing in itself.

“Just leave me here to die,” Dan said, directly into the hands covering his face.

Gathering his voice, determined for it to not come out squeaky, Phil replied, “nonsense, it could happen to anybody!” Then, thinking it’d be the right thing to do, he grabbed the broom and planned to trek forward, not stopping to think about how sensitive Dan was likely feeling after his… ordeal.

Dan squeaked, before quickly saying “stop, stop, stop!” his face emerging from behind his hands (beet red) which were now gripping the broom. “I need to get off. The broom! Off the broom. For a- a minute.”

Phil quickly lowered the broom to the ground, which Dan immediately scooted off of. He lifted his good leg up to his chest, hugging it, and buried his face into his knee, where he then groaned.

“This is the worst day of my life,” he said decidedly. He still wasn’t looking at Phil, but he sat down beside the shorter boy anyway.

“Not that day in first year? When you got the curse?” Phil joked.

“I mean, herbology was good in the morning,” Dan answered quietly, making Phil laugh.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about this though. I won’t tell anyone,” Phil said, which suddenly, seemed quite huge. Here he was, sitting amicably with Dan Howell. Sure, they wouldn’t have spent the afternoon together, getting along, if they hadn’t fallen from the sky and Dan hadn’t gotten impaled, but still. It was huge. Monumental, almost.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you were. . .” Dan struggled for a word, “there!”

Phil longed to bump their shoulders together lightheartedly, as he would to Zoe, but he knew he couldn’t.

“It’s already over and done with,” Phil said decisively. “We can use a cleaning spell and forget it ever happened. For now let’s just get back to the castle and get you to Madam Pomfrey.”

And with that he pointed his wand lazily at Dan’s crotch and cast a cleaning charm, which made Dan go bright red all over again. He muttered a thanks and slid back onto the broom, letting Phil lead him all the way to the castle. They got a few curious and then horrified looks, at why a boy was riding a broom in the castle, and then about the same boy but why he had a stick through his sodding leg.

When they got to the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey was mad with worry, and as she helped Dan, removing the branch carefully and doing all kinds of wandwork and giving him all types of potions, she demanded that Phil tell her what had happened. He explained the out of control brooms, and their fall into the forest, and as soon as she finished fixing up Dan, who had a large bandage around his leg, she turned to Phil, fixing his wide array of less serious injuries.

“Your leg’s going to need some time to heal, lad,” Madam Pomfrey informed Dan, patting his leg gently. “Perhaps you can continue to use a broom to get around?”

“No!” Dan and Phil shouted at the same time, surprising Madam Pomfrey.

“No, no, I suppose you’re right. Wouldn’t want to ride a broom after an incident like that, now would we?” She hummed. “Muggles have certain things that they use during instances like these. I can look into getting you one of their walking things. Krutchets, or something.”

She walked to the door of her office, opened it, and then turned around, “it is quite nice to see you two here together, again, though,” she smiled, before entering and closing her office door behind her.

Phil froze. Dan wasn’t supposed to know that he’d been here with him back in first year. That’d he’d sat with him almost the whole night, crying. That he hadn’t left until the sky had begun to get lighter, and he’d imagined that Madam Pomfrey would be waking up soon.

Dan opened his mouth, probably to question what Madam Pomfrey had just said, so Phil made his escape.

“I’m glad you’re gonna be okay, Howell. I’ll see you in class. I have to go— homework, y’know?” and then he was out there, a dust trail probably left behind him, he’d moved so fast.

But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Dan was okay and that Phil hadn’t been confronted, and he only had one thing that he needed to be curious about: whatever that centaur had said to Dan back in the Forbidden Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! tell me what you think and follow me on tumblr (same username) for all my other fics!


	9. Chapter 9

Dan, for some peculiar reason, had expected Lester— or Phil, as he often found himself thinking in the safety of his own mind— to come back and visit him during his stay in the hospital wing. Call him crazy, but Dan had felt something like a kinship between the two of them while they’d been lost in the forbidden forest, he’d felt almost as if they were friends. Phil had been perfectly nice and caring, and Dan had found himself thinking that he’d be able to tolerate a friendship with him.

But now, here he was, his second and last full day locked away in the hospital wing, and Phil had yet to show up. Dan’s leg still ached, and Madam Pomfrey said that it was hard to fix because the branch had gone all the way through his leg and torn up a bunch of his thigh muscle.

It was still terrifying to think about too, the way he’d plummeted through the air, falling for what felt like forever but was likely only seconds. He could remember all the branches that had raked his skin as he’d whipped past them, cutting into his face and hands. And then he’d felt pain so horrible, so intense, that he’d blacked out for a moment. When he’d awoken, aware of a sharp, throbbing pain in his leg, he’d managed to mutter for Phil, to beg for help, hurt and incoherent. Surprisingly Phil had come, and that’d helped clear his mind, helped him realize that he was impaled on a branch and bleeding onto the ground below. His leg had felt suspiciously cold, despite the pain and thick blood oozing out of it.

Just because Phil hadn’t visited him though, didn’t mean that he hadn’t had visitors. His Gryffindor friends had been quick to lighten the infirmary’s doorstep, and he’d been glad to have them with him.

“What the hell happened to you?” Tyler had asked, plopping himself at the end of Dan’s bed and helping himself to a chocolate frog, which he himself had brought for Dan.

“I fell from a broomstick into the forbidden forest and got impaled on a tree,” Dan had stated. There was almost a minute of silence, before his friends had bursted out laughing.

“Yeah _right_ ,” Troye had said, and he’d snatched the chocolate frog from Tyler’s hand and bit off the head.

“Hey!” Tyler had protested, and he’d reached for the frog, only for Troye to hold it further away.

“Anyway, you’d never go on a broom,” Connor had said reasonably, before plucking the rest of the frog from Troye’s fingers and shoving it into his mouth. Troye sulked.

“Toss me one of those,” said Louise, who’d been leaning against the headboard with Dan. They were snuggling, as they often resorted to when they were together. Their friends sometimes joked that they were practically a couple, but Dan would never feel that way about Louise, for obvious reasons. His friends didn’t know that he was gay though, seeing as he’d never told them. Had never even thought about telling them.

Tyler tossed the chocolate frog, which ended up bouncing off Dan’s chest and being picked up by Louise.

“So what _really_ happened?” Tyler asked. He picked up Dan’s feet and placed them on his lap, before leaning forward and resting his chin in his fists, his elbows situated on Dan’s shins.

“I’m serious. It was for my research project. Lester never knew I was afraid of heights, and I wasn’t about to let him find out,” Dan had said, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. Connor was gaping at him.

“You’re such an idiot, Dan,” Louise had chided, but she’d hugged him closer into her side, and he’d let himself be cuddled.

“How did you get out of the forest, then?” Connor had asked.

“Lester followed me in,” Dan had said with a casual shrug. From the looks on all his friends’ faces, this wasn’t enough information. “He cut the branch in my leg off the tree and used the broomsticks to carry me back.”

 _“Lester?”_ Troye had said in disbelief, just to make sure they were all talking about the same person. Dan had nodded solemnly.

“He was being really nice,” Dan had supplied, to immediate protests.

“Lester _can’t_ be nice.”

“Okay, _sure_ , Dan.”

“You must’ve been in _a lot_ of pain. You were delirious.”

“I’m not joking!” Dan had argued. “We were actually getting along. He was really helpful!”

It was at this moment that Madam Pomfrey had returned to the infirmary, and seen the four friends that she’d apparently prevented from seeing Dan earlier that morning.

“I told your kids that you weren’t allowed to visit! Mr. Howell needs rest, and with you lot around all he’ll be is excited!” she’d said, before shooing his friends out of the infirmary and leaving Dan to his own devices again.

Now, it was a whole day later, and Louise had returned alone. Madam Pomfrey had let her in, seeing as it was only one friend, and therefore much more reasonable.

“How’d you get away from everyone? Without them wanting to come too?” Dan asked.

“Said I was going to the library,” Louise laughed, and Dan rolled his eyes. The only time she ever went to the library was when he forced her to, and he didn’t see how his friends had fallen for it.

Louise had sat with Dan, talking amicably, for a while before Madam Pomfrey came. Dan had been munching on some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, his face scrunched in displeasure (carpet lint) when she exited from her office, holding some weird kind of contraption.

“These,” she said, holding up the two objects, “are muggle Krutchets.”

They looked like two metal sticks, with two rubbery handles along the sides. Dan stared at the possible torture devices.

“My muggle studies class says those are crutches,” Louise piped in. Seeing Dan’s apprehensive look, she added, “muggles use them to walk when they break a bone in their leg. They wrap funny things around their legs and let the bones regrow on their own. Funny things, muggles will do, without magic.”

“You take muggle studies? I suppose you could Mr. Howell here learn how to use them?” Madam Pomfrey asked Louise.

“Well why do I even need them? I haven’t broken anything,” Dan protested, still staring at the oddly intimidating sticks.

“No, but you still can’t walk on that leg. For a couple days, at least, so you’d better get used to these,” Madam Pomfrey said, and with that, she shoved the metal sticks into Louise’s arms, and retreated to her office.

Learning how to use the walking sticks, or crutches, Louise had called them, was difficult. For one thing, they hurt his armpits, and even using them to take a couple of steps was painful. Louise tried to make him use the crutches without resting his armpits on the topmost handle, but he wasn’t strong enough to hold his body up with his arms for long, and always ended up slipping downward until they were securely in the crooks of his arms again.

Furthermore, it wasn’t easy to fight back the natural response of walking. He often found himself putting his bad leg on the ground, which sent a jolt of pain up his thigh, causing him to stumble and gasp as his leg throbbed.

Soon enough Madam Pomfrey was kicking them out of the hospital wing, ensuring Dan that he’d be fine as long as he returned every night for a check up and healing potions. Dan was to sleep in his own bed that night, and attend all his classes the next day. He had no idea how he was supposed to accomplish it though, especially the being on time part, seeing as it’d taken him forever to simply get up the seemingly endless amount of stairs.

Getting ready for bed was frustrating and took entirely too long. In the end he forwent pajamas entirely, seeing as it hurt too much to pull the fabric over his leg, or to even maneuver his leg into the pajamas anyway. He slept fitfully that night, every movement of his leg making him jerk awake in pain. He even ended up waking up late, and he bustled out of the boys’ dormitory with un-straightened hair and bags under his eyes. Not to mention the fact that he simply pulled his robes on over the underwear he’d worn to bed, still not wanting to deal with clothes. It had hurt too, having to pull on his robe, seeing as he his arms were sore from his crutches, and his legs hurt too badly to stand on their own while he tried to pull his robe on, and it ended up taking him much longer than necessary.

Dan had ended up having to skip breakfast, as the food would be just about disappearing by the time he got down to the Great Hall anyway, and he had a long trek ahead of him already, seeing as his first class of the day was herbology. Usually he dreaded the class, not wanting to have to trudge across the grounds in the too cold or too hot weather first thing in the morning, nor wanting to have to see Phil Lester. Now, however, he felt almost no apprehension for the class, which might’ve had something to do with his escapade in the forest with Phil.

Walking to herbology took longer than Dan had anticipated, however, especially without the help of his friends. Not only was he struggling down staircase after staircase, occasionally even sitting down and scooting down the steps when no other students were around, he had to deal with the anxious squeeze in his heart every time he stood at the top of one, or caught a glance over the railings…

When he made it to class, late, Professor Sprout merely waved off his apologies, stating that it was understandable.

“Lester,” she said, and Phil looked up from the plant he was looking on. “Help Howell with his bag, would you?” It made sense that she would ask him, seeing as he was Dan’s herbology partner after all. It was funny, that she’d paired them together again, just as it had been in their first year. Dan hadn’t had herbology with the Slytherins since first year, and all the Gryffindors had uttered collective complaints when they’d found they’d be sharing the class again. And when Professor Sprout had paired Dan with Phil again (“for old time’s sake!”) they’d groaned in unison. It didn’t seem all that bad anymore, however. Plus, Dan was getting really good grades in this class again, just as he had in first year.

Phil took the bag from Dan’s shoulder, carefully avoiding touching him as he picked up the straps, and Dan let go of the crutch so the bag could slide off his arm. After that they’d resumed their work at the table, and Professor Sprout conjured a stool for Dan, so he wouldn’t have to stand the whole time.

“What the hell are those things?” Phil questioned a few minutes later, nodding towards Dan’s crutches.

“Crutches,” Dan answered. “Muggle walking stick things.”

“They look uncomfortable,” Phil admitted.

“They are,” Dan said truthfully.

Phil gave the crutches one long, scrutinizing look, before he transfigured the topmost handles into fluffy pillows. “That ought to help.”

Dan stared at him in amazement for a few seconds, before letting them lapse back into silence. They continued working on their plant, testing different parts of its anatomy and taking notes on the way it looked and reacted to things, when suddenly, the taller boy stumbled over his feet, and knocked over the small vial of venom they’d been extracting from the plant. It toppled over and spilled over Dan’s bare hand.

“Oh shit!” Phil said suddenly, before grabbing an emergency pair of thick dragonhide gloves and a towel, and dabbing at Dan’s hand. “I’m so sorry! Shit, I’m so sorry!” he continued, while Dan stared on in confusion.

“That’s okay, we can just collect some more,” he shrugged, and withdrew his hand from between Phil’s heavily gloved and towel holding ones. As he reached for a new vial, Phil was staring raptly at his hand, his eyes growing wide.

“Your hand… doesn’t hurt? No rash or anything? No pain?” he questioned, still paying quite close attention to Dan’s hand. He made as if to grab it again, and Dan waved him away.

“I’m fine! There was barely any venom in the vial anyway. Must not have been enough to cause a reaction,” Dan insisted, before easily replacing the spilt vial with a new one.

“That’s not possible…” Phil muttered, still looking raptly at Dan’s hand, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Well clearly it is. I’m uninjured so there must’ve not been enough venom,” Dan insisted. He corked the vial, so it wouldn’t have the chance to spill a second time.

“Fluxweed venom…” Phil mumbled under his breath, but Dan ignored whatever he was blathering on about. If he was going to insist on dwelling on some plant that was supposed to have a reaction but didn’t, then that was his problem.

As Phil continued to whisper to himself, seemingly confused and on the edge of a possible break through, a few of his Slytherin friends sidled closer to their work space.

“Heard that you fell off your broom, Howell,” Chris Kendall snickered, and Dan stiffened. He glanced carefully at Phil, who had stopped muttering, and was now glaring at the floor, his jaw set. Had he talked about Dan to his Slytherin friends? Had he made fun of him? Had he talked about the… the _broom_ incident?

Dan resolved to ignore them, and bent lowly over his notes, tracing over the words he had already written. He was too self conscious to think.

“Scared of heights, are you?” Scoffed another Slytherin, Francis Frankford. Chris snorted. Dan squeezed his quill tighter in his hand, letting his curly fringe shield his eyes. He really should’ve straightened it before coming to class, even if it would’ve made him even more late. He knew it looked incredibly dumb.

“Can’t believe he doesn’t even know how to stay on a broom,” Chris laughed. Dan could think of a million retorts brimming in his mind, bouncing on the tip of his tongue, but he kept him mouth shut.

He looked at Phil again, almost pleading to be defended. If Phil would just defend him, then he’d know this wasn’t Phil’s doing, that Phil hadn’t put them up to this, that Phil hadn’t talked about him, laughed behind his back. Phil will still glaring at the ground however, his fists clenched.

“Sometimes I wish Phil would touch you, just so I could see you squirm,” Francis said seriously, and there was a quiet, surprised inhale from beside Dan, but still Phil said nothing. “Maybe I should just shove him into you, I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind…” Francis continued, and that’s when Dan slid off his stool, summoned his crutches, and limped towards Professor Sprout, ignoring two sets of laughter behind him.

“Can I go to the hospital wing, Professor?” Dan asked. “My leg really hurts.”

Professor Sprout sent him away immediately, telling him not to come back unless he felt completely better. He nodded and was out the door, running away as fast as his muggle crutches would let him. He didn’t bother going back to the Gryffindor house, not wanting to have to climb all those stairs again. Instead he forced his way into a stubborn secret room, hidden behind a tapestry that only slid aside if told a pleasing pun. Dan grudgingly told it about a plant that didn’t like to be packed into the soil too hard, and that if it was, it would _make like a plant_ and _leaf_.

Once safely inside the hidden room, no bigger than a cupboard, he leaned his crutches against the wall and slid to the floor, letting his body slump in something akin to defeat. It wasn’t that he’d expected him and Phil to instantly be friends, but he hadn’t expected for Phil to save him from the forest and then turn right around and talk behind his back. He’d thought… hoped, even… that they could be friends. Especially after what the centaur had said to Dan.

He could still remember it, the way the tall, intimidating centaur had tugged him away from the tree, how Dan had shot furtive, scared looks into the trees, begging for Phil to notice what was happening, but not daring to alert the centaur to his presence. When he’d finally seen Phil, sneaking from tree to tree, following after Dan, he’d been immensely relieved. Hope was not yet lost, death was not yet on the horizon.

When the centaur had summoned Phil to the ground, it’d been both absolutely terrifying and comforting. Terrifying, of course, because now they had no escape plan, no idea on how to get away from the stronger, smarter creature. Comforting because he was no longer alone, because his head was beginning to clear, no longer clouded with panic.

But when the centaur had leant to Dan’s ear, had cupped his hand around his whispered advice, Dan had felt curiously blank. It’d been a relief, a possibility, that he’d not let himself dare to hope for. The centaur had told him that the curse between him and Phil could be countered, but only if their friendship, their love, one day outweighed the animosity that they’d felt for each other at the time the curse was placed. Apparently the stars had told the centaur that, and while Dan believed that this was a load of bull, he also didn’t have anything better to hope for.

So, yes, he had been hoping that he and Phil could become friends. He’d been hoping that they’d become really good friends, best friends, perhaps. He’d hoped that he’d never have to feel they type of pain that he was all too acquainted with ever again.

It seemed that this hope was foolish, however. Dan didn’t suspect that they could ever actually reverse the curse. Not when Phil was talking behind his back, laughing at his fears. Not when he wouldn’t come to Dan’s defense when being picked on. Who would want a friend like that anyway?

Dan sighed, and slumped further against the wall. His leg was throbbing.

—

In all honesty, Dan had forgotten that he was supposed to meet Phil in the library for their research project that night. The only reason he’d even turned up was because he’d fallen asleep in the secret niche, and, feeling grumpy, had wandered to the library in search of an enlightening read. He’d been thinking of something to do with stars, maybe, or a book about interesting, easy-to-learn spells. He’d forgotten about Phil, though.

“I’m tired of talking about this, Zoe,” Phil’s voice had groaned from a few shelves away, indeed sounding tired. And annoyed.

“All I’m saying is that _maybe_ if you’d come to his defense—”

“Zoe.”

“—he wouldn’t have gone missing and—”

“Zoe.”

“— _maybe_ he’d be here now—”

“Zoe!”

“What?” Zoe sounded exasperated.

“I’m seriously done talking about this,” Phil huffed. There was a quick scuffle, which Dan assumed was them shoving each other.

“I thought you wanted to befriend him?”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“You said that—” Zoe began.

“I _said_ ,” Phil interrupted, “that we probably could’ve been friends. If he’d been sorted into Slytherin.”

“Same thing.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Because you wanted him to be sorted into Slytherin, obviously.”

There was a long pause. Then Phil said, “you’re delusional.”

“If you were his friend, then you’d know where he was right now,” Zoe insisted.

“No I wouldn’t.”

“ _Yes_ , you would, but even if you didn’t, he’d want to find you,” she said matter of factly, and Phil sighed loudly.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re going to fail your project if you don’t find Howell.”

Phil grumbled in response, and Dan, shocked at actually hearing his name spoken, slunk further into the bookshelves, pretending that he hadn’t just overheard a conversation about himself.

Finally, he found an interesting enough book about how the universe was likely created, along with theories about why humans existed, and how muggles and wizards alike had developed. He’d planned to sneak the book out of the library (he often did this, and if he didn’t like the book, he would return it. If he liked it a little too much, however, sometimes they would accidentally find their way to a secret compartment in his trunk) and began tip-toeing down the aisles.

He listened hard when he reached the end of the rows of books he was standing between, and, not hearing Phil or Zoe speaking, carefully emerged from them. There was absolutely no one in sight, so Dan quickly shoved the book into his bag, and made to scurry out of the library.

It was as he was cutting between two rows, that his stomach growled loudly, and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything yet that day.

“Did you hear that?” said a voice directly to his right, on the other side of the bookshelf. Phil’s voice.

Dan sidestepped just in time to watch a handful of books slide apart, which he or Zoe was presumably now peering between.

“C’mon,” said Zoe, and Dan’s eyes widened in panic. He didn’t want to be found! He didn’t want to have to talk to them! Especially not Phil, who apparently wanted-but-not-really to be his friend and talked behind his back to prove it.

Dan raced quietly down the aisle, his crutches slightly louder than he’d like for them to be, hoping that the two Slytherins were heading in the opposite direction. He was approaching the end, about to dash out of the rows and hurtle towards the library door, when Zoe darted into the entrance of the aisle, panting.

Dan’s eyes widened somewhat comically, and he spun around, started to run in the opposite direction, when Phil appeared at the other side of the aisle. Dan gulped, backing towards Zoe. He’d rather take his chances with her… maybe he could edge around her…

A hand grabbed onto his arm, and Dan jumped in surprise, glancing toward the girl gripping him. Her nails suddenly seemed ominously long, and Dan was disgruntled to realize that she was taller than him.

“Let me go,” Dan said, staring pointedly at her hand and away from Phil.

“No,” she said. “Half the school’s been looking for you all day. Where have you been?”   
“Sleeping,” Dan replied. Her hand tightened slightly, her nails digging in. Dan gasped.

“Don’t hurt him, Zo!” Phil said suddenly, much closer than Dan would’ve expected him to sound. He was standing directly on Dan’s other side, incredibly close.

“I’m not,” she snapped, glaring at Phil now, and tightening her grip accordingly.

“You are,” Dan said, and she rolled her eyes but released him.

“Seriously, where were you?” Zoe asked again, and Dan would’ve backed away from her if he didn’t know that Phil was so close behind him.

“Why does it matter?” Dan retorted.

“Because we were worried,” Phil butt in, and Dan glared at him.

“Oh, you were worried?” Dan snarled. “You weren’t so worried when your asshole friends were taunting me though, were you?”

At this Zoe gave Phil a triumphant look, which Phil ignored, or possibly missed, seeing as his hand was raising towards Dan’s elbow, as if to comfort him. No, as if to hurt him.

“Careful now, wouldn’t want to touch me without Francis around, would you? He wouldn’t want to miss out on you hurting me,” Dan snapped, and Phil’s hand quickly withdrew, immediately held against his chest, as if stung. Dan simply glared at him, and Phil’s hand carefully returned to his side.

“I would never hurt you on purpose,” Phil said quietly. Dan didn’t answer except for his glare, and Zoe returned her hand to his arm, lighter this time.

“You know, I have some food in my bag, if you’d like some?” she offered, quickly changing the subject. “Dinner finished a bit ago, but I have some bars if you’d like them?”

Dan accepted the bars from the surprisingly kind Slytherin, hoping they weren’t laced with some kind of potion, before he excused himself from the library. He was halfway to the Gryffindor common room, two granola bars already digesting in his stomach (with no disastrous effects so far) when he remembered he was supposed to go to Madam Pomfrey every night.

And so it was with a heavy sigh that Dan turned back around, making his way down the many steps again, and headed for the hospital wing. When he finally arrived, it seemed like a lot of time had passed, and though his arm muscles were aching from doing all the work of walking, his armpits didn't hurt one bit.

It was as Dan entered the infirmary, however, that he began to question his luck. For the third time that day, Dan came face to face with Phil Lester.

“Ah, Mr. Howell. I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about your check up,” Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over to him and leaving Phil seated on the edge of a bed. “If you’d just take off your outer robes, I’ll be able to check your leg and give you your potions and you can be on your way.”

Dan froze, remembering with horror his lack of apparel underneath his wizarding robes. “I- I can’t,” Dan said quietly.

“Can’t remove your robes? I suppose Mr. Lester could help you?” She suggested, waving her hand towards Phil, gesturing him closer. He stood and came to stand by Madam Pomfrey’s side uncertainly.

“No!” Dan said quickly, eyes growing wide in horror, which Madam Pomfrey again misinterpreted.

“I’m sure he can avoid touching you, if that’s what your worried about,” she said simply, and had begun to turn towards a medicine potions shelf when Dan called out again.

“I just- I can’t have my robes taken off.”

“Nonsense!”

“It hurt too much last night to put on pajamas,” Dan said in a rush, his cheeks flaming. “I’m only wearing underwear.”

“Mr. Howell, I am a healer. I am entirely professional and have seen hundreds of naked bodies. If you’re really so embarrassed, however, Mr. Lester could surely help you disrobe. I’ll be in my office when you’re ready,” she said sternly, and with that she conjured a black t-shirt which was placed on the bed, and disappeared into her office, Dan left gaping at her back.

“Er—” Phil managed to say, before Dan shot him a fierce glare. There was no way he was helping Dan undress.

His arms hurt even more now than they had in the morning though, tired and sore from the constant use of crutches. Dan struggled to remove the robe from his body, as it hurt to lift his arms more than a few inches away from his sides in any direction. He’d just begun trying to pull his robe over his head by using his teeth, when Phil huffed loudly and stepped closer, making Dan freeze.

“I’m going to help you,” Phil said calmly, sounding as he had on his broom, when he’d been trying to direct Dan to the ground.

All Dan had time to do was widen his eyes, before Phil was on him. He was extremely careful. Only ever grabbing the very edges of his clothes and lifting it away from his body before tugging carefully. Dan stood completely still, blushing vibrantly, as Phil undressed him.

Soon he was standing entirely naked except for underwear in front of Phil Lester. His face felt incredibly hot, and he stared determinedly at Phil’s left ear, trying not to make eye contact. Still, he couldn’t help feeling the heat of Phil’s gaze on him. Dan was almost positive that Phil was staring at his body. Probably judging him. Thinking he was too skinny, too boney, too pale.

Then Phil grabbed the black shirt from the bed, which was thankfully quite large and hung past Dan’s small boxers. Or, it was possibly that the shirt was normal sized, and was just huge on Dan, like a lot of clothes were. Phil continued to eye Dan, even after he was wearing the shirt, and it was with goose pimples covering his arms and legs that he walked unsteadily to Madam Pomfrey’s office and knocked on the door.

She emerged immediately, clucking her tongue, and completed her examination, waving her wand all around Dan’s injured thigh, which also made him blush, for some reason. She then gave him three different potions, and sent him to go get dressed.

He struggled to put his robe back on, but it was a bit easier than taking it off would’ve been. Plus, Madam Pomfrey was now talking to Phil, which made Dan want to leave even less, when it was so easy to eavesdrop. He’d never even guessed why Phil was here in the first place.

“…take this one and it’ll make the dreams go away, but only for the night. You can only use it once a week as well, as too much of it can damage your liver.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Phil answered quietly, sounding slightly embarrassed. Almost ashamed, even.

“And if you have trouble sleeping some nights and need a wake-me-up potion in the morning, feel free to come see me. It’s safe to use those kinds of potions at least three times a week.”

Dan was dressed, and he was leaning heavily on one crutch, trying to pull the door to the infirmary open. He’d barely even noticed that Phil and Madam Pomfrey had finished speaking, but Phil showed up beside him and shooed him away from the door, which he opened.

They walked side by side for a few moments, Dan’s crutches clicking with every other step, until the stairs toward Gryffindor tower came into view, along with the corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeons.

“Um, will you be okay to go up the stairs?” Phil questioned. At first Dan thought he was asking because of the crutches, which would’ve made sense, but then Dan wondered if he was asking because of the height. Dan’s eyes lowered into a glower.

“Yes,” he said brusquely, and Phil nodded slowly, before retreating down the corridor.

Dan watched him until he disappeared into the shadows. He then sighed, and sat down on the stairs, resting his face in his hands. He didn’t want to think about how many stairs he had to climb, alone, no less. He felt sick even thinking of it, of the steps protruding from the ground, of the thick railings, over which the ground lay, far below.

He tugged his already messy hair in his fists, convincing himself to get over it and stop being a baby. And so it was with that that he grabbed his crutches, propped them both under one arm, and used the other to tightly clutch the railing. He did the entire staircase one step at a time, with each step his heart beating quicker and harder, his arm clenching even tighter to the railing.

By the time he made it to the top, he stepped several feet away from the stairs and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. His fear of heights wasn’t always this bad, and his anxiety towards climbing stairs didn’t always act up like this, but on the occasions where it did, it was horrible, and incredibly difficult without the aid of his friends.

And so it was like that that Dan continued, flight after flight of stairs. Each staircase one step at a time, each stretch of solid ground a refuge. His arm ached from holding the railing so tight, but it was worth it, because he didn’t fall.

It took him longer than an hour to return to the Gryffindor common room, by which point he was exhausted and fell asleep fully dressed.

Still, maybe it was because he was so tired that he hadn’t realized he’d been followed. Hadn’t realized that Phil Lester had retreated into the shadows towards the dungeon, and watched as Dan had struggled up the stairs, fighting back a panic attack with each step.

Maybe it was because of this exhaustion that he didn’t notice as Phil followed him staircase after staircase, always there, ready to catch him. Maybe it was because of this that he hadn’t noticed Phil looking out for him, making sure he’d made it to bed safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed! i update every saturday and my tumblr the same as my ao3 (jilliancares) so feel free to send me asks there or comment here! i really appreciate every comment so thank you to those that have given me feedback! <3


	10. Chapter 10

“Phil? Phil? Would you _please_ pay attention?” Zoe snapped, who was perched at the end of his bed.

Phil groaned in response, prying his eyes back open to look at her. Despite the potions that Madam Pomfrey had been giving him, he still hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Ever since that first night in the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey had been inviting Phil back to help with Dan, convinced that he was too embarrassed to undress in her presence.

Each and every time Phil helped him remove his cloak, Dan stood there, face pink and hands clenched tightly by his sides, steadily avoiding eye contact with Phil. They hadn’t talked since the night Dan had sent him away, and then spent an eternity struggling to climb up multiple staircases. Since that night, Phil had taken to following Dan from a distance after he was done getting his medicine, to make sure he made it up all the stairs okay. Some nights he seemed better than others, just sticking the the wall and climbing quickly up the stairs. Other nights, he had to sit down on the middle of the staircase, breathing shakily into his hands, before he could move on.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey had deemed Dan healed the previous night, and he’d handed over his crutches once in for all.

“What?” Phil finally said, sleep making his voice croaky.

“Have you not been listening to me this whole time?” she growled, and Phil wished he was still sleeping. Zoe could be incredibly scary when she was angry, and Phil hated making her mad.

“No, I have,” Phil lied, forcing his eyes open again, realizing they’d slid back shut.

“So then you know that Dan approached me in the library?”

“Dan?” Phil said incredulously.

“Dan Howell? You know, your research partner? Arch nemesis? You have a curse together? Ringing a bell?” Zoe snapped her fingers in front of Phil’s face, and Phil finally shook off the sleep and climbed out of bed.

“What did he want?” Phil asked while pulling on his clothes. The rest of his dorm mates had already gone down for breakfast, which was lucky for them, seeing as they didn’t have to listen to Zoe’s shrill voice first thing in the morning.

“He told me to tell you that he wants to work on your project seperately. He said that he’d research the quidditch balls and the history of quidditch, and that you could research brooms and the evolution of them,” she said all of this calmly, like it wasn’t a big deal. The look she shot him, though, conveyed solely I told you so. As she had been, ever since Phil had let Dan get picked on. Zoe had been convinced that they were going to be friends, which she was unbelievably excited about (Phil guessed that it was still all a ploy to get him to hang out with her brother) and she was in no way pleased when Dan stormed out of herbology, and then continued to avoid Phil afterwards.

 _“What?”_ yelled Phil, his cloak half on, forgotten. “He can’t just decide that! We’re partners! We need to work together!”

Zoe rolled her eyes at him, once again demonstrating her lack of understanding how major this was. Phil didn’t want to work alone! Dan was obviously the smarter of the two, and Phil knew he spent most of his time in the library already. The project would be so much easier if they just worked together, and Phil couldn’t just disregard his other classes because Dan was making this project even harder for the two of them.

“I have to go talk to him,” Phil decided, resuming the pulling on of his cloak. He shoved his feet into his shoes, and sighed as he came face-to-face with Zoe, who was standing in front of the door.

“Stop acting like a fucking Hufflepuff and think for a minute, why don’t you?” Zoe barked, her arms crossed over her chest.

Phil glared at her, but said nothing. He’d never confided in her, in anyone, what the sorting hat had told him. _Oh, I see lots of greatness from you. You could do well in any house, I promise._

“What do you mean?” Phil asked, still anxious to get out the door and find Dan and then… and then what?

“You can’t just barge into the Great Hall and interrupt him in the middle of breakfast! It’ll look weird if you go over there. You’ll have to wait,” Zoe said, and Phil huffed impatiently.

“But I don’t want to wait.”

“Don’t be so rash, it’s unbecoming,” Zoe informed primly, with a slight mocking tone in her voice that indicated she was quoting her mother. “Just think this through. Do something for Dan that he’ll appreciate, and apologize for letting your friends be mean to him. Tell him that you’ll tell them off from now on.”

Phil groaned, leaning his head against the wall. Zoe’s plan sounded like a lot of work, which they usually were. Phil couldn’t deny that they almost always pulled through. Zoe was most definitely a Slytherin through and through.

“Well, what should I do for him? And how will I even find him? It’s the weekend, he could be doing anything!”

“You know him better than I do, he was your arch nemesis for six years, after all. Just do the opposite of what you’d normally do,” Zoe suggested, which Phil thought was a pretty broad suggestion.

“That still doesn’t answer how I’m supposed to find him.”

Zoe gave him a look of complete disbelief. “Where else?”

—

Phil glanced around the library for the tenth time, covertly waiting for Dan’s appearance. Phil knew he would show up. He’d been surprised to realize that he knew Dan’s schedule pretty well, which must’ve happened after years of watching him, apparently. But Dan came to the library every weekend. He’d come with his bag, having convinced himself that he was actually going to get work done, and he’d even pull out a few of the right books. Sometimes he’d even write a few sentences of whatever essay he was writing, but soon enough, his attention would drift, and he’d somehow find himself picking up a different, interesting book, usually about space or animals or magic. Anything that caught his fancy.

A book was propped in front of Phil, seeing as he was under the pretense of reading, but he hadn’t read a word. It wasn’t even open. Phil stared at the cover, Wizard’s Wisest Autotrophs, and blinked. He was sure he’d read this book before, he just couldn’t remember exactly when…

Phil began flipping through the pages, looking at plant illustrations and descriptions that he vaguely recognized. Phil flipped past various pages, mandrakes, gillyweed, devil’s snare, tentacula, until he came to a stop, staring at the page about fluxweed.

They were studying this plant in herbology now, had just been working with it yesterday. Moments before Dan had rushed into class, late, Professor Sprout had warned them to be extra careful when extracting the plant’s venom. She’d informed them that it was poisonous to most, and it was best to simply avoid it at all costs. Then, of course, Dan had had it spilled on him, and absolutely nothing had happened.

Phil thought he remembered reading something once, about who the plant reacted with, but he couldn’t quite remember what would cause a reaction. He scanned the page, looking for the venom’s reaction. Finally, with a quiet “aha!” under his breath, he found it.

_…the fluxweed’s venom, however, is toxic to many people. It’ll cause a violent, immediate rash (similar to that of undiluted Bubotuber pus) to those with asthma, lactose-intolerance, anemia, or heterosexuality who touch it. If left untreated, it could cause several maladies such as…_

A quiet gasp escaped Phil, and he read the passage again, and then a third time. If Dan hadn’t had a reaction to the fluxweed, then that meant he was none of those things, which meant he was…

“Lester?”

Phil started, and he slammed the book shut. Dan was standing beside his table, clutching his bag (as if he was actually going to do his homework) and staring at him, looking slightly concerned.

“Howell,” Phil greeted, and he stood up, simply so he could tower over the shorter boy. Dan stepped back a step, and Phil gloated inwardly. That was one thing that he’d probably never get tired of.

“Look, I just wanted to ask you if Zoe told you…?” Dan asked, trailing off. Phil rolled his eyes.

“Told me what?” Phil returned, deciding to play dumb. He might as well not make this easy for Dan, who looked nervous at the prospect of having to tell Phil himself.

“Well— that I thought we could, I mean, I think it’d be better if we—” Dan stuttered, but Phil interrupted him before he could get any further.

“Hey, I really shouldn’t have let Chris and Francis say those things to you. It was horrible, I guess I was just… shocked,” Phil said, and Dan stared at him, mouth agape, looking bewildered. “I shouldn’t have let them say those things to a friend. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Friend?” Dan said, sounding taken aback. He still looked suspicious, as though he didn’t entirely trust Phil, but hopeful too.

“Of course,” Phil answered easily. “Though don’t get your hopes too high. You can still be pretty insufferable, and Zoe claimed the best friend spot years ago,” he joked.

Dan scoffed, which was immediately overcome by his laughter. “Whatever,” he said, though he was smiling.

“Anyway, did you have something you wanted to tell me?” Phil asked innocently.

“Oh yeah… Uh, did you… want to work on our project? Since we’re both here?” Dan said, which was most certainly not what he was planning on saying before Phil had apologized.

“I have a better idea,” Phil said, and led the way out of the library. He’d expected Dan to be resistant, to suggest working on their project at least once more, but he followed immediately, dropping his armful of books onto a table as they went. Then again, when did Dan ever do his homework on a Saturday?   
“Where are we going?” Dan asked. He was holding his bag firmly onto his shoulder so it wouldn’t fall, seeing as he was walking quickly to keep up. Phil slowed his pace, for once taking into account Dan’s shorter legs.

“You’ll see,” he answered, and they fell into an easy silence.

Without the distraction of conversation, Phil couldn’t help but dwell once again on the fluxweed. Dan hadn’t been affected by the venom, which meant he definitely wasn’t heterosexual. Phil was in no way bothered by this, he wasn’t a homophobe, obviously. He was pretty sure that he would develop a rash though. Right?

Phil pushed the thoughts of Dan’s body, dressed in only small, black boxers, skin pale and smooth and face flushed, from the previous nights in the hospital wing, out of his mind. Maybe it’d be a small rash.

Still, Phil wondered whether any of Dan’s friends knew of his sexuality. What if Phil was the only one who knew? In previous years, Phil would’ve seized this information and have told anybody who was willing to listen. Now, Phil felt sick to his stomach at the thought of doing that, at the thought of hurting Dan. It was shocking, realizing that he not only cared about hurting him physically, but emotionally as well. Although, it truly was horrible to out somebody before they were ready. Phil was just glad that they’d never experimented with fluxweed before this year, seeing as past Phil could be a total douchebag.

Dan stopped walking as they approached the large doors exiting onto the grounds. Phil had taken a few more steps before he realized that Dan wasn’t with him anymore.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and Dan looked nervously from him to the door.

“It’s after dinner. We’re not supposed to leave the castle,” he stated, and Phil took another step forward, grabbing onto the large door handle.

“Where’s that Gryffindor courage?” Phil taunted, and he pulled, causing the tall door to creak on its hinges. Dan bit his lip, casting a quick glance around, before scurrying through the door.

“We’re gonna get in trouble,” he groaned, practically whispered, looking anxiously all around them.

“No we’re not. And even if we did, it’s just detention,” Phil shrugged.

“If my house looses points because of you…” Dan threatened, and Phil laughed.

“If your house looses any points tonight, I’ll be sure to keep my guard up. What, with a threat like that,” he joked, and Dan moved as if to shove him, but Phil quickly sidestepped. Dan looked embarrassed.

“Forgot,” Dan muttered, scratching the back of his head. Phil shrugged consolingly.

“I do too sometimes.”

Their walk was silent for the rest of the way down to the lake, where Phil was leading them. He stopped by a large birch tree, and turned to Dan.

“I thought we could go for a swim,” he suggested.

“We’re risking detention to swim in a gross lake?” Dan said incredulously. It did sound pretty dumb put that way, but Phil had thought that it’d be fun.

“Of course!” Phil said confidently. “Haven’t you ever gone for a swim at night?”   
Dan blushed, and he nervously pulled on the sleeve of his robe. “Well it gets pretty cold, doesn’t it? And… anything could be in that lake. Worse things than the giant squid…” he argued meekly, looking embarrassed. Comprehension dawned on Phil.

“You still don’t know how to swim!” he exclaimed, remembering his little journey into the lake with Dan in their first year. Dan’s embarrassed look transformed into one of defiance.

“So what!” he snapped, before turning around abruptly. “I forgot, I have homework to do.”

“Wait!” Phil said immediately, reaching out to grab Dan before thinking better of it. “I wasn’t making fun of you. We can just sit in the shallow part, if you want. It’ll still be fun,” he offered.

Dan paused, turning back around slowly. He looked from Phil to the water, debating, before finally giving a nod.

“Great!” Phil said, before promptly stripping off his cloak. Dan followed at a slower pace, seeming to have not realized that they wouldn’t be swimming in their clothes. Phil reached down to shed his underwear, and Dan’s eyes widened.

“I’ll take it you’ve never skinny dipped either?” Phil laughed, before he shoved his underwear to the ground and Dan hurriedly looked away. Phil immediately started wading into the lake, deciding to grant Dan privacy, but soon he heard the telltale signs of Dan following him.

The water was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. Phil turned around to face Dan, still walking backwards. Dan’s eyes widened for some reason, as Phil turned to face him, and his eyes flitted down to Phil’s chest before hurriedly returning to his face. Phil didn’t really mind if Dan was looking at him, not when Dan had been forced to stand in front of him, almost completely naked, for multiple days in a row.

Phil finally sat down in the water, the gentle waves lapping at his chest. Dan had to sit on his knees, or otherwise be slapped in the face repeatedly with the water.

Dan was still extremely red-faced, and seemed generally uncomfortable to be naked right now. Phil had barely thought anything of it, seeing as him and his fellow Slytherins skinny dipped often during the warm weather.

Deciding to try and take Dan’s mind off it, Phil asked him something that he’d been wondering for a while, “why are you scared of heights?”

Dan stiffened slightly, and responded with nothing other than a shrug.

“I can’t believe you went on that broom even though you were scared. That’s a great example of ‘Gryffindor courage’ right there,” Phil joked, and Dan laughed weakly.

“Well I didn’t want you to know,” Dan said quietly.

“How come?” Phil asked. Dan shrugged in response, but Phil had a pretty good idea. Who would want their greatest fear in the hands of the person most likely to abuse it? Then again, Phil now held Dan’s other secret, and he didn’t plant to tell anyone that.

“Do the stairs ever bother you?” Phil asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Not really,” Dan replied carefully, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, they’re just stairs!” he laughed. “Kind of pathetic, really, to be afraid of stairs. No Gryffindor would be…”

“But stairs go pretty high, don’t they?” Phil argued. “Plus, over the railings is a pretty far drop most of the time. It’d be understandable.”

Dan shrugged for the third time.

“Have you always been afraid of heights?” Phil asked, and Dan shook his head in response.

“No, I just had a panic attack on the astronomy tower in class one day. Louise was the one that figured out what it meant,” Dan explained. Phil couldn’t help but wonder when that was. The way Dan said it made it sound like it could’ve been during any of the past years, but why would it have developed?

“So,” Phil said suddenly. He stood up abruptly and kicked his feet to the surface, allowed his body to float on his back, so that he was staring up at the sky. It was growing darker rapidly, and Phil could clearly make out the moon, along with a few twinkling stars here and there.

Dan seemed even more flustered now, and Phil wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have proffered his naked body to the air, but decided it didn’t really matter. “Do you know how to float on your back?” Phil asked instead. Dan shook his head.

“Kick your feet out, until they’re near the surface of the water, and take deep breaths, because the oxygen in your lungs is lighter than the water,” Phil instructed, and he turned his head, watching as Dan struggled. He could manage to float on his back for a second or too, but he legs ended up falling back into the water. For some reason, Phil found it hard to keep his gaze strictly on Dan’s face, and accidentally found it traveling down, down, down…

“Stretch your arms out behind your head,” Phil suggested. “Deep breaths,” he reminded, as Dan continued to struggle.

With Phil’s help, Dan finally managed to float on his back, and after doing it for nearly ten seconds, he shouted, “I’m floating!”

Phil kicked his feet gently, propelling himself past Dan, who tried to copy his movements, and ended up sinking again. He was quick to get back on his back, floating again, but he didn’t try to kick this time, just letting himself stay stationary.

“I’m going to teach you how to swim one day,” Phil said decisively, and Dan laughed. “Everyone needs to know how to swim.”

They continued to float around for a while, until eventually they decided it was too late and they needed to return to the castle. Dan was walking in front of Phil, who watched as he emerged from the water, which was dripping down his body, sliding down his glistening skin. His butt was small and perky, and it bounced with every step Dan took. Feeling ashamed of himself, Phil continued to stare, following Dan out of the water and feeling entranced.

Dan gasped suddenly, and Phil immediately looked away, fearing he’d been caught.

“Our clothes are gone!” Dan exclaimed, turning back to face Phil with wide, mortified looking eyes. His hands were held in front of himself, in an attempt to hide his modesty. Phil couldn’t help thinking that he looked so little, so small without any clothes on…

“Fucking Slytherins,” Phil grumbled, scanning the land all around them. It was typical, really, and if Phil had been thinking he would’ve concealed their clothes.

“What are we going to do?” Dan asked, face steadily becoming redder. It seemed that he’d been comforted by the fact that he soon wouldn’t be completely naked in front of Phil, but now, at the prospect of this continuing for even longer, he seemed embarrassed beyond belief.

“We could try to sneak through the castle?” Phil suggested meekly, and Dan’s eyes bulged at the idea of sneaking naked through Hogwarts, littered with teachers and ghosts and rule-breaking students.

“No way,” Dan said immediately. He too scanned the grounds, before his eyes seemed to land on something, and an idea came to him. “I know someone who can help us!” he said, and Phil turned around, looking for a student, someone that Dan apparently trusted to help. All he could see was Hagrid’s stout little house.

“Not… Hagrid?” Phil said incredulously, but Dan nodded, and set off for the hut, still holding his hands in front of his junk. “I don’t want him to see me naked!” Phil complained, but hurried after Dan anyway.

“Would you rather one person see you naked or a bunch of people see you naked?” Dan reasoned, which shut Phil up.

They walked in an identical embarrassment to Hagrid’s hut, where they knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal the half giant, and Phil immediately felt minuscule and even more naked than before. Hagrid gaped, or at least, his bearded dropped lower, as he stared at them incredulously.

“Dan…?” he questioned, and Dan swallowed, his face shining red in the light spilling from Hagrid’s cabin.

“Can you help us, Hagrid? Someone stole our clothes,” he said, and it was then that Hagrid seemed to notice Phil, looking even more incredulous.

“You two aren’… friends?” he asked in disbelief, and Dan cleared his throat.

“Please, do you have any clothes? Or blankets, maybe?” Dan pressed, which seemed to pull Hagrid out of his stupor. He invited them inside, and sat them down on his couch, draping a large blanket over them.

“Who’s someone that I can get for yeh? That’ll bring yeh down some clothes?” Hagrid asked, and before Dan could answer with one of his Gryffindor friends, who Phil wouldn’t dare let see him naked, he answered.

“Zoe Sugg.”

“She’ll be here soon and I’ll… wait a bit,” he grunted, before retreating from the cabin and to the school.

It was awkward, sitting next to Dan on a couch, both of them completely naked under a blanket they were sharing. Dan didn’t try to pursue a conversation and neither did Phil. Instead he wondered if Dan’s face was stuck in a permanent state of red or if it would ever go back to its natural color.

After about fifteen minutes of increasingly awkward silence, the door burst open to reveal an exasperated Zoe.

“Phil Lester, you stupid Hufflepuff!” She yelled, and Dan promptly yanked the blanket up to his chin.

“I know some cool Hufflepuffs,” Dan muttered, but was ignored.

“Did you bring us clothes?” Phil asked and Zoe smirked.

“Well, the house elves had already taken all of the clothes you wore this week to be washed,” she said, and Phil’s mouth fell open. “So we have this—“ Zoe pulled out one pairs of boxers and two shirts, “this—” one pair of socks, “and this,” a scarf.

Zoe then gave them one last exasperated look, said, “I’m glad you’re friends, at least,” and left the building.

The next second Dan and Phil scrambled for the mismatched clothing, and Phil ended up in a pair of loose blue boxers and a white shirt, with Dan in only a pink shirt, which hung much lower on Dan than it did on Phil.

All that was left was the Slytherin scarf and a pair of black, knee high socks, which Phil was positive belonged to Zoe.

“I definitely get both of these since I don’t even have pants,” Dan said with a challenging glare. When Phil didn’t argue, Dan pulled on the socks and placed the scarf around his neck, so that both ends dangled down his chest.

Mediocrely dressed, they made their way back toward the castle, Dan holding his shirt firmly down the entire time. They surprisingly made it to the Entrance Hall without getting caught, and there Phil offered to walk Dan back to the Gryffindor tower.

“And made you twice as likely to get caught? Yeah right. Just go to your dorm,” Dan said, and with that he turned around, still holding his shirt down, and made his way towards the stairs.

Phil pretended to go the opposite way, but he doubled back and followed Dan from afar, which gave him a good, if accidental, view of Dan’s butt. Dan ended up making it safely to the Gryffindor dorms, as always, and if Phil got caught and given detention by Filch on his way to his dorm, well, that was his own fault, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you should check out this art that @/rickasslay on tumblr made! http://rickasslay.tumblr.com/post/140569591468/inspired-by-jilliancares-chapter-10-of-a-wizards


	11. Chapter 11

Phil was coming towards him, and he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He was dripping with water, looking like he’d just emerged from the lake once more…

The water slid down his chest, each drop sliding slowly, purposefully, with amazing clarity. Dan followed the droplets with his eyes, leading lower and lower, which happened to reveal that Phil was naked…

Then Phil was closer than ever, and his hands were trailing over Dan’s chest, which was also naked, Dan realized. Except Phil’s touch didn’t hurt, it felt good, _so_ good, and Dan was pressing closer, aligning their bodies, breathing into Phil’s neck as his hands took claim over Dan’s body…

Dan woke with a start, sweaty and breathing heavily. He felt embarrassed, thinking of what he’d been dreaming about, and not for the first time either. It’d been a week since his and Phil’s little nightly adventure down to the lake, and he’d been dreaming about it ever since. He couldn’t deny that Phil was very attractive, and they’d both been completely naked in that lake. Dan still had Phil’s clothes, the pink shirt, the (now hidden under his pillow) Slytherin scarf, and the knee high socks which he’d surprisingly taken a liking to.

“Wake up!” someone outside his hangings shouted, followed by the familiar attack on his curtains. He was thankful for the locking spells he’d put on them, seeing as he was visibly aroused from his dream.

“I am up!” Dan groaned, and the assault on his bed eased slightly.

Dan wondered what he was going to do about his dreams. He clearly couldn’t let it continue to happen, not when it included _Phil Lester_ of all people. Plus, Dan didn’t really plan to date while he was still in school. He wasn’t even sure that he was going to end up dating someone in the magical world. Because despite the fact that he was a wizard, which already put him into a smaller category of people, he was also a _gay_ wizard, which he felt even more isolated for.

He wasn’t sure if he was ever even going to tell anybody. No one knew that he was gay, there was no way anyone could know. Unless he’d been caught unawares staring at a cute boy, though Dan would never let that happen.

So, obviously, the dreams needed to stop. If it happened again, Dan would have to do something about it. Because what if Dan mumbled in his sleep, or god forbid, moaned, and then followed it with a name? A boy’s name? Or what if someone hexed him and he was forced to share something embarrassing? Really, with magic, there were so many ways that secrets could be found out, and so Dan would have to nip this bud at the source.

“Dan?” a voice called, familiar and female. Dan grumbled under his breath, seeing as how it wasn’t fair that girls were allowed in the boy’s dormitories, but boys weren’t allowed in the girl ones.

Or most boys, anyway.

In Dan’s second year, he’d ventured up the stairs in search of Louise. He hadn’t known about the stair thing, where they would collapse into a slide if a boy ventured up them, but it hadn’t mattered, because the stairs stayed quite stable. Once at the top, Dan had looked around the room, annoyed to find it empty, and very absent of his friend.

He’d turned to go back down the stairs, when he’d heard some girls coming up. Undeterred, he’d continued to the door, about to venture down the stairs, when he overhear their conversation.

“I almost wish a boy would try to come up here again. It was so funny last year, when Joe fell on his face!” The girls were giggling, and Dan had stopped in his tracks, frozen. Why hadn’t Joe been able to make it to the girls’ dormitory? Why had he fallen on his face?

“At least if another boy came up, we’d get the slide back for a while. That’s always fun.”   
Realizing that it shouldn’t have been possible for Dan to be up there, he’d raced across the room and dived under a bed, one that was hopefully Louise’s.

After that, more of the girls had appeared, and the room wasn’t fully empty again until the next morning at breakfast. Dan had had to spend a very boring and uncomfortable night laying under a bed, hiding from girls. Not to mention that he spent the entire time in completely peril, afraid that he’d be caught and questioned. Because surely, the only reason that’d he’d been allowed in the girls’ dormitory was because he was gay.

“What?” Dan called back now. There were several giggles from outside his curtains, and then a loud _bang!_ and they were flying open, and multiple hands were reaching in, grabbing him and dragging him out of bed. Thankfully, his erection had wilted as he’d thought about being trapped in the girls’ dormitory, but this didn’t help the fact that he was clad in only boxers. Thankfully, he hadn’t fallen asleep in the knee high socks last night. That would’ve been a disaster.

“What the hell!” Dan complained, nearly naked and shivering. All of his friends were talking at the same time, but the gist of what they said was that there was a Slytherin at the door for him.

“At the Fat Lady portrait?” Dan asked, looking expectantly at all of their faces.

“No, at the door to the dormitory,” Tyler said, unabashed.

“You let a _Slytherin_ into Gryffindor house?” Dan asked incredulously, but received mere shrugs in response.

“He said he needed to talk to you,” Troye supplied. Dan was still feeling exasperated, and slightly confused, not to mention cold as well.

Louise then marched to the door and yanked it open, revealing Phil. Dan felt even more naked than before, and flustered as well, as he remembered the dream he’d been having earlier.

For the past week, the two of them had been getting on really well. They’d gotten a ton of work done on their project, and Dan had been having fun doing it too. It turned out, hanging out with people when they’re being nice could actually be a good time, and Phil was a really good person to spend time around. He was funny, even when Dan was the butt of his (lame) jokes, and he was, not to mention, incredibly cute, though Dan was still trying to shove those feelings out of his mind. His dreams were never going to stop at this rate.

“Hey,” Phil said, his eyes roving around the dormitory, before settling on Dan again. “Our dorm is bigger than yours,” he informed. Dan rolled his eyes.

“What’s so important that you had to come barging into the Gryffindor house?” Dan asked. “We were _sleeping_.”

“You were the only one sleeping, Dan,” Connor said, and Dan shoved his shoulder.

“And having _quite_ a dream,” Tyler muttered, though it was still loud enough for everyone to hear.

Dan was mortified, his face instantly beet red, and it felt so hot it almost hurt. He shoved Tyler then, considerably harder than he’d shoved Connor.

“Dick,” Dan said, but otherwise didn’t retaliate. It was true, after all.

“Well,” Phil said, and all eyes turned to him instead of Dan. “We’re having a party in Slytherin tonight, and I wanted to invite you.” There was a beat of silence, as Phil seemed to become aware that he was in fact surrounded by Gryffindors in Gryffindor territory. “And, uh, you guys can come too. If you want.”

“I’m in!” Tyler cheered immediately, and he and Louise converged upon each other, discussing what they were going to wear. Everyone else was nodding, taking a liking to the idea, and Dan used their distraction to exit the dorm, Phil on his heels.

They stopped right outside the doorway, and turned to face each other. Dan was once again reminded of how little clothes he was wearing, but he tried to ignore the embarrassment.

Standing so close to Phil, he had to practically crane his neck to look him in the face. God, he was terrifyingly tall. Or, perhaps, Dan was a bit short for his age. Whatever.

“Won’t the Slytherins mind when a bunch of Gryffindors show up at their party?” Dan asked, and Phil shook his head.

“We’ve already got some Ravenclaws coming, and everyone in Slytherin knows that we’re friends now,” Phil answered, gesturing between the two of them. “Plus, no one’ll have time for rivalries when there’s alcohol around.” There was a pause, and then, “wanna go to the library?”

“Yeah, just let me get dressed. And I have to stop by the hospital wing too, so I can just meet you there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Phil said, with a casual shrug, and Dan nodded shakily, trying not to let his face flame as he scurried back into his dorm to get dressed. Phil followed him, which for some reason, Dan hadn’t been expecting. And even though they’d been completely naked in the company of each other, Dan still felt shy at the prospect of changing in front of him.

As Dan rifled through the trunk at the end of his bed, Phil flopped onto the bed, his feet by Dan’s pillow, his head propped up in his hands at the end of the bed.

All of Dan’s dorm mates, plus Louise, were moving about the room, conversing, acting like they always did. Still, it seemed weird to Dan. He would’ve expected them to be cautious and wary, to act differently with a Slytherin in their mix.

Phil was leaning over his trunk now, as he dug through it and took out the clothes he wanted to wear. He was watching Dan search, occasionally sticking his hand into the junk and pulling out a random trinket to examine. This made Dan feel oddly on display, though he didn’t do anything to stop it.

Once Dan was dressed, he and Phil made their way through the common room, which was full of people now that mostly everyone was awake. They garnered some curious looks before they climbed through the portrait hole.

“You know, you’re not even supposed to know where our common room is,” Dan said, as they made their way through the castle. Dan took familiar shortcuts, ones that led to fewer stairs, or staircases that led hidden through the walls, where he wouldn’t have to see the ground below.

“You’ll know where our dorm is tonight,” Phil said with a shrug. As they reached a normal staircase, he walked beside Dan, while Dan walked nearly pressed against the wall. It was just the way Dan’s friends would walk with him on the way to classes, and it was weird that Phil had figured out Dan’s fear, and adjusted to it, all on his own. Already doing what he could to make Dan more comfortable in situations he didn’t like.

Dan inexplicably slowed his walk as they got closer to the hospital wing, wanting to stall the inevitable. “Er, you can really just go on without me…” Dan tried. “I’ll be right along.”

“It’s fine!” Phil said, being annoyingly polite, not for the first time. “I don’t mind.”

 _But I do,_ Dan thought, though he didn’t say anything. Suffer in silence he must.

They walked into the hospital wing together, and Madam Pomfrey spotted them immediately, already clucking her tongue. “You two are always together. What is it with you and getting hurt?” But as she looked over the two of them, she must’ve come to the conclusion that neither one was hurt.

“Why are you here?” She finally asked.

“Uh, I just— wanted to…” Dan stammered, finding his hands shoved into his cloak pockets, and clammy with sweat.

“Spit it out! I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need,” she insisted.

“I wanted to stop… dreams,” he said quietly.

Madam Pomfrey led him to a cabinet, and Phil followed them, unabashed, and seemingly unaffected by Dan’s embarrassment.

“Okay, what kind of dreams?” Madam Pomfrey asked, pulling out various bottles and holding them up. “Nightmares? Aimless wandering? Public embarrassment?”

“Uh s-sexual dreams,” Dan stuttered, his face quickly resuming its previous state of redness. Madam Pomfrey gave no sign of surprise, and despite Dan’s incredibly embarrassment, Phil, who was standing directly beside him, still didn’t seem affected.

“Here you go, one drop a night. It’s not that strong, since it’s only going to be ending one kind of dream, so you can take it every night if you wish.”

And with that, they were hurried out the door, seeing as there were other patients to attend to. As they walked down the corridor, Dan still the epitome of embarrassment, he fumbled with the potion, trying to shove it into his bag.

“You know, I can’t believe you’re stopping those dreams. Those are the best ones,” Phil said conversationally. Dan spluttered.

“Did you not hear Tyler this morning?” Dan demanded, his voice sounded slightly higher than usual. Phil simply shrugged.

“Happens to everyone. It’s normal. And like I said, they’re the best ones.”

“No they’re not,” Dan argued. “You wake up embarrassed and— and—”

“Aroused?”

_“Shh!”_

Phil laughed.

“You can’t just _say_ that!” Dan complained, looking wide eyed at Phil.

“Can’t say aroused?” Phil asked, a smile stuck to his face as if with a permanent sticking charm.

“Yes!”

“So I _can_ say aroused?”

“ _No!_ And stop saying aroused!” Dan whisper shouted.

“You just said aroused,” Phil argued, and Dan whipped his head around, trying to make sure they were alone, that no one could hear them.

“Can I say… excited?” Phil then asked, smirking.

“Not in that context.”

“ _Erect_ -ed?”

“Stop!” Dan whined.

Phil looked as if he were going to continue, he was annoying enough and Slytherin enough to do it, despite Dan’s discomfort, but they’d arrived at the library. Phil shrugged, apparently letting it go.

An hour later, there were books scattered in front of them, all open with papers and quills and bottles of ink surrounding them, but neither Dan nor Phil were actually working.

Dan had a book resting across his thighs, simply so Phil could prop his legs on him, and Dan had Phil’s trousers pushed up to mid-shin, revealing the bottom half of his legs. He was doodling on him with a quill, and Phil couldn’t seem to stop himself from humming in enjoyment.

“That feels so good,” he muttered, as Dan continued to draw on him, lightly scratching the quill over his skin, leaving a trail of ink in its wake.

“So you’ve said,” Dan joked. Phil’s leg was adorned with badly drawn snitches and hippogriffs. He even drew himself terrified on a broom for Phil’s enjoyment.

“You know, if we could touch, I’d offer to give you the best massage,” Phil said. His eyes were closed, and he was slouched low in his chair. They hadn’t gotten very much work done at all, and they’d just been talking for the better part of an hour. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to touch again?”   
Dan paused in his drawing of a lightning bolt, remembering what the centaur had told him. That his and Phil’s love would have to outweigh the hate they’d shared for each other when the curse was placed. Dan doubted that that could ever happen. They’d hated each other a whole lot, had been trying to get each other expelled that night. It’d be no easy feat, combatting the hate they’d once felt. Dan supposed that the amount of love to oppose that hate would have to be really strong love, the kind you have when you’re in a relationship, and that’d obviously never happen.

“I don’t know,” Dan sighed, and looking down at Phil’s leg, realized that he doodled multiple hearts.

—

“I’m so excited!” Tyler whispered, and was answered by a multitude of shushes. They were currently sneaking down to the Slytherin common rooms, and were trying their best not to get caught. They’d already had a close run in with Filch, and Troye had actually stepped on Mrs. Norris.

When they finally made it to the Great Hall, Phil was waiting for them, hidden in the shadows. He greeted them with a wave, and a finger to his lips, before leading them down the dark hallway towards the dungeons. Phil led them to a blank stretch of stone wall, which he whispered the password to, and opened.

Inside the party was thriving, and they all moved into the common room hurriedly, so as to keep the ruckus from spilling into the corridors. Phil was quick to provide them all with firewhiskey, as any good host should.

“Phil, hurry up!” Chris Kendall called from across the look. His expression was blank as it landed on Dan, which was about fifty times better than to be expected. Phil had apparently had a talking to with his friends over the last week, telling them not to pick on Dan any more.

“What’s going on?” Phil called back. There was a half circle assembled on the floor, people propped against chairs and sitting on pillows, all holding drinks in their hands.

“Truth or dare!”

“That’s such a Hufflepuff game,” Tyler scoffed, and Phil turned to him immediately, smirking.

“Maybe if you’re playing with Hufflepuffs, it is.”

“I know some cool Hufflepuffs,” Dan argued.

“What’s it like with Slytherins then?” Louise questioned, ignoring Dan.

Phil laughed. “You’ll see.”

And they were all led into the circle. They sat down amongst the Slytherins and the few Ravenclaws that were present.

“So, is everyone sure they want to play?” Chris asked, an almost scary looking smirk adorning his face. There were mute nods all around the circle, and then Chris smiled wider, and raised his wand in the air. With a decisive flick of his wand, and a slight whoosh of air over everyone in the circle, Chris cleared his throat. “Now you can’t lie on truths, and on dares you can’t chicken out.”

“Hufflepuff out,” someone muttered.

Dan opened his mouth to argue, but Louise elbowed him in the side.

“Who wants to start?” Chris asked, his eyes scanned the circle, like a vulture looking for meat. Finally, he made eye contact with Dan, and with a slight shrug, asked, “would you like to start, Howell?”

“Sure,” Dan said, and then he too was looking around the circle. He knew everyone by sight, but there were people in the year above and below him too, and even some in his year he couldn’t remember the name of.

He figured most of his friends would be annoyed if he asked them to do anything, but he’d rather have to dare them than someone he didn’t know very well, who might feel inclined to later take revenge. These were Slytherins, after all.

“Tyler,” he said, and Tyler rolled his eyes dramatically, before turning to face Dan. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to change your looks into the most attractive person in the circle,” Dan dared. There was an outbreak of childish ‘ooh!’s as well as confused muttering, from those who didn’t know that Tyler was a metamorphmagus.

Tyler scanned the circle decisively, his fingers stroking his chin, making a big show out of his dare, before his looks changed to resemble Marcus, a Slytherin from across the circle. Laughter erupted, and the game continued swiftly on, with Tyler turning the question on a Ravenclaw, who chose truth.

The game was fun, a mix of hilarious and embarrassing events coming one after another. Dan hadn’t known what to expect of a Slytherin party, but they certainly made simple party games seem more fun, and despite their house stereotype, hadn’t restored to any kind of evil tricks.

“Phil,” Francis Frankford said, his voice full of malice. Apparently, he hadn’t quite forgiven Phil for befriending ‘the enemy’, or so Phil had laughed about with Dan in the library earlier that week.

“Dare,” Phil said easily, because Slytherins were sneaky and cunning, and Dan didn’t doubt that Francis wasn’t about forcing some unwilling truth from Phil if he were to choose it.

“Hmm,” Francis said maliciously, before his beady eyes rounded on Dan, and the dare spilled from his mouth. “I dare you to touch Howell.”

Immediately, sounds of protest poured in from all sides. Even most of the Slytherins looked angry at Francis, who was getting shouted at by almost everyone in the circle.

“You arsehole!” Zoe yelled, who was sitting on one side of Dan, Phil beside her. Against his will, Phil was inching closer to Dan, the magic of the circle forcing him to complete his dare.

“I’ll hex his fucking fingers off,” Louise threatened, nearly unheard by Dan, as Tyler, Connor, and Troye were half standing, screaming insults at Francis.

“GUYS,” Dan said, shouting over the noise, which finally began to quiet down. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes it is,” protested Phil, who was shaking with the effort of holding back from Dan, yet still moving forward despite that. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dan shrugged, and reached forward, shoving Phil back into his seat lightly. He immediately drew his hands back with a badly stifled gasp, casually holding them against his body. Already, the flare of fire and needles and pain was fading away.

After that, Francis was kicked from the game by Louise and Zoe teaming up, and then it continued.

“Howell,” Phil said, and Dan raised his eyebrows at him. “Truth or dare?”

Dan thought about choosing dare, seeing as Phil was his friend, but he was also a Slytherin, and Dan didn’t completely trust his motives. “Truth,” Dan decided.

“Okay. Tell us more about that dream you were having this morning,” he said with a laugh, and Dan narrowed his eyes into a glare at his friend. What a dick! Dan should’ve known he wasn’t going to drop it, not after that whole “aroused” thing earlier.

Everyone around the circle leaned forward, as they did whenever there was a good truth or dare. Tyler stifled a giggle into his hands, and really, it was all his fault that Phil knew about the dream anyway.

The magic of the circle was coaxing answers to the front of Dan’s mind, but luckily for Dan, Phil’s phrasing left some room for evasion. Dan wouldn’t have to say everything.

“It was a… good dream…” Dan began, but then his chest started to hurt, and as he breathed in, his lungs felt tight. As he breathed back out, words left him in a rush without his permission, “great! It was a great dream!” and he was gasping, holding his chest, as laughter rung throughout the circle. This had already happened to a few others, who had lied or not told the truth enough, so Dan knew what was going on. He’d like the dream, really like it.

“And it was about—” _no! no no no no!_ “—someone in this room.” Dan waited, but no pain came, forcing more words out of his mouth, so he breathed easy. He still felt compelled to keep talking. “And it took place in the lake,” he finished, and people around the circle catcalled and jeered, and Dan buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. He hoped that Phil wouldn’t connect that the dream happened in the lake because he’d seen Phil naked in the lake.

“Sounds like an adventurous dream,” Zoe joke, and Dan shoved her.

The game continued on, however, and more drinks were shared. Dan got drunker, until he could feel himself blinker slower, and his words taking longer to exit his mouth. Most of the people in the circle were in similar states, but no one felt ready to retire from the game.

“Phil!” Chris said dramatically from across the circle. “Truth… or dare?”

“Truth,” Phil said with a lazy shrug, and Chris nodded, closing his eyes to think.

“Okay. What’s the worst thing… a _plant_ can do?” he asked. There were several groans from around the circle.

“Are you really trying to make Lester talk about plants more often than he already does?” a seventh year demanded, and laughter rang from around the circle.

“Hey!” Phil protested, several seconds later than he normally would have.

“Go on,” Chris prompted.

“Well, there’s this one plant that can reveal your sexuality,” Phil said casually.  “What?” asked Chris. “How? Plants can’t even talk!”

Maybe he was drunker than he realized.

“No its _venom_! Its venom will make you get a rash if you’re straight, so if you don’t get one, you’re not straight,” Phil said, his pointer finger raised in the air. He pretended to push up imaginary glasses, but poked himself in the eye.

“What plant?” Chris whispered dramatically. Dan tuned in as well, knowing that this plant was one he would have to avoid.

“Fluxem,” Phil muttered. “No, fluxweed!”

Dan stiffened, but nobody noticed, as the game was continuing on anyway. Fluxweed? But weren’t they working with that in herbology just the other week?   
Dan thought back determinedly, trying to ignore the muddled feeling in his mind. He couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong.

Phil had said, just then, that if you got a rash you were gay. No, that if you got a rash, you _weren’t_ gay. Or… straight?

Dan groaned quietly into his hands. He couldn’t think, his brain refused to work. He was just too drunk.

Something to do with fluxweed. It was poisonous. To… most people?

An image emerged in Dan’s mind. Dan and Phil, stood side by side, extracting venom from a plant. Phil knocking over the tube on accident.

_“Oh shit! I’m so sorry! Shit, I’m so sorry!” Phil had yelled._

Why? 

_“You’re hand… doesn’t hurt? No rash or anything? No pain?”_

Dan hadn’t gotten a rash. The venom hadn’t affected him…

Fluxweed venom wouldn’t affect him if he was gay…

Phil knew all about plants, all about fluxweed…

The fluxweed hadn’t affected Dan.

Phil _knew_ it hadn’t affected Dan.

Dan gasped, his eyes flying open. Louise giggled from beside him. “Fall asleep?”

He ignored her, instead looking at Phil from under his fringe. Phil was leaning against Zoe, who was singing under her breath. He hadn’t acted any different around Dan, so therefore he must not know. Because he would be different if he knew, right? He’d treat Dan different if he knew. Everyone would. Because Dan was different. Right?   
Slowly, participants from around the circle fell asleep, right against the chairs they were leaning on and curled up on the floor, a drink still in their hand.

Dan could barely help it as his eyes slid shut. He was leaning against Louise, who was saying something to someone, but Dan couldn’t be bothered to listen.

But still, he couldn’t help dwelling.

Did Phil know he was gay? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything? Or _done_ anything? Did it really not make a difference to him?


	12. Chapter 12

Waking up was probably the worst part of any party, Phil decided. He awoke with a groan, which managed to hurt his throat. His tongue felt thick and heavy, and his mouth tasted worse than the time when he was six and convinced that his toothbrush was actually alive and trying to pull out his teeth. He managed to pry his eyes open (with a gross, sticky feeling, left over from slept-in contacts) and took a look around the room, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing at the back of his skull.

The Slytherin common room had never been so full. Being Slytherins, no one would normally dare fall asleep in the common room. Not unless you wanted to wake up and realize that you’d been horrendously pranked. Phil had witnessed many of these in his time, including but not limited to, the time Joshua Hancock was stuck to the ceiling with a Sticking Charm, the time Peruvia McGlean was tied to her chair and then shoved into the corridors, and the time Peter Valinsky’s cat was stuffed into a decorative vase.

Nobody seemed to have been pranked overnight, however, seeing as they were all too exhausted or drunk to do anything. Phil couldn’t believe that all the students from other houses had let themselves fall asleep here either, as if any of the Slytherins had been less intoxicated, those people would’ve been the first to wake up with their hands tied. Various people slept around the room, in varying levels of comfiness. There were those who had actually snagged the couches and chairs, and those who had fallen asleep against them or on a clear stretch of ground, but there were also those forced to scrunch into awkward and uncomfortable positions. Dan Howell being one of them.

Phil sat up quietly, and smiled in amusement. Dan was stuck firmly between Louise and Zoe, who were both facing him and cuddling him as hard as possible. Louise had both her arms flung around Dan, and Zoe had one of her arms laid across them both, with her legs tangled with Dan’s (Phil would be sure to tease her about this later). Dan was sleeping quite peacefully, his chin tucked into his own chest, his arms pillowed beneath his face. Phil was less alarmed than he should’ve been to find that he thought Dan looked absolutely adorable, with his mouth hanging open slightly, and his hair falling over his eyes.

Of course, being cuddled by two attractive girls was any straight man’s dream. Dan Howell wasn’t straight, however, so this was probably wasn’t too spectacular for him. And, if Phil were to be completely honest with himself, it probably wouldn’t be too spectacular for himself either. He wasn’t brave enough to actually touch some fluxweed venom and find out (he wasn’t a Gryffindor, after all) but if Phil had to guess, he’d wager that he’d be completely fine even if he was submerged in a pool of the venom. And looking down at the three people beside him, it was clear which one he would most want to cuddle. (Of course, this wasn’t in any way possible, seeing as cuddling for him would just be pain for the other.)

“Hmm?” Dan mumbled, which also happened to be one of the cutest things in the world. Phil then realized that he’d never had the pleasure of seeing Dan wake up, and so, creepily, he watched with rapt attention.

Dan frowned as he started to slowly wake up, and he tried to roll to the side, only to be blocked by Zoe. His eyes were still closed, but his frown deepened in confusion, and he tried to shift to the other side, but bumped into Louise. He then seemingly became aware of the fact that he was completely entangled with other people, and he gasped. His eyes shot open, darting from side to side.

He seemed to relax, realizing that it was only a couple of friends, but he still seemed kind of flustered at the prospect of being cuddled. He tried, gingerly, to pry one of Louise’s arms off him, but she only tightened her grip, pulling Dan even closer to her, so he was smushed against his chest. Dan let out a minuscule kind of squeak, and tried to back away, but Zoe had noticed the movement and scooted closer in response, effectively trapping Dan between the two of them. He struggled fruitlessly for a few moments, before sighing and slumping into Louise, admitting defeat. It was then that Phil snickered.

Dan’s face shot up immediately, already sporting a brilliant blush. Emotions warred across his face, one after the other, so quickly it was almost hard to decipher. First was embarrassment, then relief, likely because it was Phil and not some other Slytherin, but then Phil was lost, unsure why Dan looked embarrassed again, and then wary, almost scared.

“Help,” Dan whispered, his voice scratchy and quiet from lack of use. Phil nodded, pulling out his wand. He pointed it at Zoe first, and casted a charm that would make her wake up. Immediately, her eyes opened, and she laid there in confusion for a few seconds, likely trying to decide where she was. Then she apparently noticed that she was wrapped around someone, and she immediately scooted away, her face impassive except for the redness creeping up from her neck.

Zoe looked around, checking to see if anyone had seen, before she spotted Phil. She glared at him immediately. “If you ever bring this up again, I will fill all your socks with undiluted bubotuber pus,” she threatened, before standing swiftly. Instantly, she gripped her head and groaned, while Phil snickered.

“I have some hangover potions in my trunk,” Phil informed her, and she nodded gingerly, stumbling her way carelessly through the bodies all over the floor, straight towards the boys’ dormitory.

‘Thanks,’ Dan mouthed, careful not to wake Louise up. Phil took aim at the Gryffindor and gently levitated her arms away from Dan, who then rolled out from under them.

Dan stood up, wincing at the feeling in his head, and likely the rest of his limbs, from sleeping on the floor. “Any chance I can have some of that potion as well?”

Phil joined him, and led the way to his dorm. They walked down a hallway (unlike the Gryffindor house, which had stairs) and entered Phil’s dorm, empty except for Zoe, who was drinking a hangover potion while plugging her nose.

“Blegh,” she said, as she finally lowered the potion with a grimace, before noticing she had company. “This shit tastes disgusting.”

“Feel better though?” Phil questioned, and Zoe tilted her head, as if assessing her amount of pain.

“Loads,” she decided, before throwing herself on a bed, which happened to be Chris’s.

Dan was busy looking around the dorm, assessing the different-looking room. “Your dorm really is bigger than ours,” he pouted, before climbing into Phil’s bed. Zoe gasped, looking from Phil to Dan and back again.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asked, propping himself up on Phil’s pillows. Zoe’s eyes were wide, and Phil glared at her, willing her to be quiet.

“Phil never lets _anybody_ on his bed,” Zoe explained, and Phil swore to flay her alive later. Truth be told, it was thrilling watching Dan climb into his bed without thinking, as if he belonged there. Phil was already looking forward to falling asleep in it later, knowing that Dan had been there.

“Oh-” Dan began, looking nervous, but Zoe interrupted him.

“In third year I sat down on his bed and he hexed me so hard that I had a bruise for a month,” Zoe informed, and Dan’s eyes darted to Phil warily, trying to touch as little of the bed as he could, but Phil didn’t see, still too busy glaring at Zoe.

“I-I can get off, I didn’t know,” Dan said, still staring nervously at Phil, who finally looked at him.

“No, you’re fine,” Phil said, which Zoe gasped dramatically at again. Phil rolled his eyes. “I don’t actually mind. Besides, I sat on your bed,” Phil said with a casual shrug. Really, when he’d sat on Dan’s bed, he’d been unable to stop thinking that he was sitting on _Dan’s_ bed. It’d been crazy for him, exhilarating.

“Okay…” Dan said, and settled back into the pillows once more. Zoe was staring at Phil, bewildered, and calculating, her gaze shifting between the two of them. Phil looked away from her, afraid of what she would find.

He opened up his trunk then, sifting through the contents for the hangover potion. Eventually he pulled it out, taking a large couple of swigs from the bottle, before handing it to Dan, who made a face as he drank it.

Immediately the throbbing in Phil’s head lessened to a minor headache, which would likely be gone by the time he’d finished eating breakfast. He climbed onto his bed, careful to avoid touching Dan, and sighed.

Zoe stood up from Chris’s bed angrily and made her way over to Phil’s, which she plopped herself onto dignifiedly. Phil was tempted to glare at her, or kick her off, or even declare that it was No Girls Allowed, but he resisted. She was sat next to Dan at the head of the bed, and their shoulders were touching, seemingly amicably.

See, when Zoe decided she liked someone, that was that. Back when he and Zoe had become friends, it had barely been Phil’s decision at all. He’d been making his way to the quidditch pitch (sneaking, more like, seeing as it’d been the middle of the night), and Zoe had been smuggling food from the kitchens. They’d run into each other in the halls, pausing as they assessed each other. Obviously they’d known each other, being in the same year and all, but they’d never made any effort to talk or actually become friends.

“Can’t sleep?” Zoe had asked, and Phil had shrugged. It was probably due to the late hour, combined with the lack of sleep he’d gotten in weeks, having been even worse than usual, but he’d then admitted to Zoe what he’d never told anyone else.

“Never can,” he said. And it wasn’t like nobody else knew, because it was obvious they did. His eyes were constantly accompanied by purple bags, and whenever he did manage to get any sleep, it was plagued by nightmares, which was made obvious in his screams or whimpers. Plus, he was always the last one to go to “bed”, and though everyone had probably thought at first that he just went to bed horribly late every night, he was sure that they’d eventually realized that most nights he didn’t go to sleep at all. And despite everyone being aware of his lack of sleep, he’d never actually spoken about it out loud before. Except for right then, to Zoe Sugg, whom he didn’t even know.

“Want to eat these with me?” Zoe offered, holding up the bag of food. She shook it enticingly, before adding, “cauldron cakes.”

Phil debated, but eventually shook his head. “I really shouldn’t. I was gonna try to fly for a bit, exhaust myself and then try to sleep,” he’d said, and turned to go. Zoe had decided to follow him, however.

“How about both, then?” She’d offered. “My mom always says to eat something when you can’t sleep.”

“Mine too,” Phil admitted, though he’d always thought it was bullshit. At this admittance though, Zoe offered the bag again, and Phil couldn’t think of another reason not to take one, and so he did.

That night, they’d gone down to the quidditch pitch and ended up flying together, Zoe undoing some tricky locking spells to retrieve a school broom. It’d been a fun night, but Phil had suspected that it’d be a one time thing. He’d been wrong, of course, because at that time he’d had no idea who Zoe Sugg really was.

The next day she’d sat with him at breakfast, directly in Chris’s usual spot, and Phil had done nothing to stop it. She’d began complaining about her classes, as if they were old friends. And that’s exactly what it’d felt like. Immediately, Zoe was glued to his hip, and Phil, unintentionally, was finding himself just as glued to hers. Anyone looking at them would guess that they’d been friends since first year, and it felt like they were.

Sometimes as Phil was sneaking out of the Slytherin house to try and pass the time, Zoe would come with him. How she knew that he was leaving, Phil had never found out, but it was extraordinary all the same.

Still, Zoe had decided she liked him, and that’d been that. No questions asked.

Zoe had already admitted to Phil that she liked Dan. She thought he was nice, and she liked to refer to him as “not as Gryffindor as he could be” which was a compliment, obviously. Sometimes she even asked Phil if she could come along to their study sessions. Partly because they were best friends and time spent together was better than time spent apart, but Phil also knew it was because she approved of the company he was with, and he was sure she was already planning for the three of them to become their own little friend group.

This explained why she so easily sat on Phil’s bed and leaned against Dan’s shoulder, as if they were better friends than they were. Dan didn’t seem particularly bothered by it, but almost questioning, as if he wasn’t sure if this was a form of friendship or a demand for him to scoot over and give Zoe more room.

Soon, while Dan and Zoe were busy debating some transfiguration theory (Phil was sure to announce loudly that they were nerds, which, quite unsettlingly, they both turned back on him in the form of herbology) he left to take out his contacts and put on glasses. He rarely wore them anymore, ever since first year when Dan broke them. He’d sworn not to wear them outside of his dorm after that, or in front of other people, so he wouldn’t be vulnerable.

He returned to the dorm anyway, though, not wanting to put another pair of contacts into his already irritated eyes. As he climbed back onto his bed, still studiously avoiding Dan’s outstretched legs, Zoe gaped at him.

“You have _glasses_?” she exclaimed, squinting as if to better examine them.

“I missed those glasses!” Dan said at the same time, although he clamped his mouth shut immediately after, and looked as though he hoped Zoe’s words had masked his.

“Why’d you miss them?” Phil asked, and Dan shrugged.

“Good memories?” he said, in the form of a question, blushing all the while. Phil stared at him, trying to analyze just what was going on in his head. Dan averted his gaze.

“You mean, ripping them off my face and breaking them?” Phil laughed, and Dan shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you had glasses,” Zoe said, still squinting at them. “You look good in them,” she said decisively, and Dan nodded along until he seemed to realize what he was doing, before he abruptly stopped.

“I’d wear them more often if crazy Gryffindors didn’t run around breaking people’s glasses,” Phil joked, and Dan scoffed at him.

“I only broke them because you tripped me!”

Phil opened his mouth to retort, perhaps to explain that Dan’s short little legs running up a big hill was just a recipe for disaster, and he had only been cutting to the chase, when Zoe spoke.

“I’m starving,” she complained, “let’s go eat!” And that was that.

—

Phil had been having a normal afternoon, especially compared to his wild morning, full of sneaking Gryffindors and Ravenclaws out of his house and not getting caught or questioned by teachers. Dan had gone to the Gryffindor table with Louise for breakfast, and Phil and Zoe had sat at Slytherin’s, like always. It was then that order was restored and the day continued like any other.

Except for the fact that Phil was now sitting in the library, waiting for Dan, who showed up in quite a peculiar fashion. He sprinted into the library, despite the no running rule, and came to a pause directly beside Phil, who was reading a book about galaxy spheres. They were really cool, and useful for astronomy as well, but that was besides the point. Still, he’d intended on at least finishing the page before he looked up at Dan, when he heard the weirdest noise. It was like an ongoing, muffled… talking?   
He looked up then, with curiosity if nothing else, to see Dan, sweaty, red-faced, and panting through his nose. He had a gag in his mouth, which looked entirely too uncomfortable, and his eyes were watering, possibly because of the gag.

“Howell?” Phil asked incredulously, before standing up. Despite the constant stream of words failing to get past Dan’s lips, Dan’s eyes looked panic-y and shocked.

“What the hell is going on?” Phil asked, before realizing he was an idiot. He pulled out his wand and vanished the cloth from the shorter’s mouth, without realized that the sudden sound of “Doh! Doooohh!” was meant for him, and as a ‘no!’.

With the gag finally gone from Dan’s mouth, Dan could talk freely. And talk freely he did. Phil was immediately assaulted with a cascade of words and sentences and half-formed thoughts escaping from Dan’s mouth.

“—and when I was eight my brother pushed me into a lake but he didn’t even get in trouble because he was older than me and I got in trouble because I was the one that was wet and had ruined my clothes but it wasn’t my _fault_ —”

Phil, with sudden clarity, realized what the hell was going on. It was the new craze amongst the students in Hogwarts, a hex called the Babbling Hex. It was a hex that forced you to continue speaking, and drew random thoughts and memories and spewed them out from your mouth. Unless, of course, they were actually talking to someone, as then whoever they were talking to could ask them things, and the answer to these things would be brought to the forefront of the victim’s mind and straight out of their mouth. It was an unusually cruel spell. The victim would be sitting inside of their own head, in control of their entire body except for their mouth, silently begging for someone experienced enough to end the spell.

For a few moments Phil just gaped at Dan, listening to his story (feeling appalled that his parents sent him to bed without dinner for three days because of it) before Dan’s babbling switched gears.

“—stupid Francis pulled out his wand and cursed me just because he got banned from truth or dare last night and now I can’t stop talking and—” at the beginning of this sentence Dan had been nodding vigorously, obviously because what he was telling Phil what he really wanted to tell him, but by this point he began shaking his head, his eyes wide with horror. “—I already told Tyler that I sneak to the showers in the middle of the night to masturbate and—” Dan’s face was so red it looked painful and he was grimacing, still shaking his head at the news he’d relayed.

“Who doesn’t?” Phil said, trying to ease Dan’s embarrassment, before he started walking swiftly out of the library. “Come on,” he said, and Dan trotted along beside him, still quite red in the face, but now talking about how much he loved space and stars, though he seemed a bit embarrassed about this too.

Phil honestly could’ve conjured another gag and shoved it into Dan’s mouth to save him the embarrassment, but sadistically, he wanted to hear everything that Dan was saying. And Dan wouldn’t be able to blame him either, as he wasn’t a Ravenclaw, so it’d seem like he just didn’t think to do it.

“—and where are we going should I even be trusting you right now because I know we’re friends but still you’re a _Slytherin_ , Lester—”

Phil laughed, and if he could touched Dan, he would’ve wrapped his arm around the shorter boy and squeezed him against his side. “We’re going to find Zoe, she’s a genius, honestly.”

“—I like Zoe but she’s _also_ a Slytherin and you lot tend to have ulterior motives maybe we should find one of my friends plus remember that time we were skinny dipping and Zoe brought us barely any clothes because I kind of think she did that on purpose, also—”

Maybe Dan was too good at analyzing other people, because Zoe definitely _did_ do that on purpose. Phil was pretty sure she did it just to embarrass them even more, but who could ever really tell with that girl? She was far more devious than she came across.

Phil picked up his pace as they walked past a group of people, who burst out laughing when they realized Dan had the Babbling Hex on him. Dan walked faster too, nearly bumping into Phil’s back in his haste to hurry up.

“I think she’ll be outside…” Phil said absently, leading Dan out through the entrance hall and towards the lake, where a recognizable figure was seated underneath the birch tree.

They hurried to the tree, Dan talking about his wand which was made of birch, and stopped in front of Zoe.

“Zoe quick! You have to help Dan! He’s had a Babbling Hex set on him!” Phil said immediately, giving her a pleading look. Instead of instantly jumping to her feet with a worried expression on her face, as Phil had been expecting, she sent them both a curious and calculating look, carefully bookmarking her place in her book.

An uneasy tingling spread throughout Phil’s body.

“Actually, nevermind,” he said in a slightly higher pitch than normal. “We’ll just be going. I think Dan… forgot something.” He then turned swiftly around, prepared to make a quick exit, when Zoe shouted an incantation from behind them.

Suddenly, Phil’s limbs were drawn together and he found himself fighting against invisible bonds. A look to the left showed Dan in a similar state, who was angrily talking about how much he hated stupid fucking Slytherins and how you couldn’t trust a single hair on their heads (and on and on he went).

Zoe then grabbed Phil and dragged him over to the tree, which she propped him against.

“You’re a horrible friend, Zoe. You’re the worst friend to ever exist,” Phil told her sternly, and Zoe rolled her eyes in response.

“Sure.”

Zoe propped Dan up, ignoring his continued spiel against horrible Slytherins with their horrible morals.

“Don’t you see what a wonderful opportunity this is?” Zoe said, smiling at them, from one person to the other. Dan and Phil were sitting across from each other, Zoe stood to the side of them. “You guys can finally get some things out in the open.”

Phil gaped at her. “I’m pretty sure if something isn’t in the open, then we don’t want it to be!” he said angrily. Dan was nodding in agreement, still talking about something irrelevant, but looking nervous and scared.

“But it _should_ be,” Zoe insisted, and then she sat down between them. “Let’s begin.”

“Stop Zoe,” Phil demanded, becoming even more annoyed with his friend. He struggled uselessly against his bonds. “You’re gonna end up taking this too far. Someone could get hurt.”

“Should that be the case, I know how to Obliviate memories,” Zoe said primly, and Phil stopped struggling for a moment, terrified at the thought of Zoe erasing things from his mind. He didn’t trust her _quite_ enough for that.

“Dan,” Zoe said, addressing Dan. “Is there anything you’ve been wanting to talk about?”

Dan shook his head even as he responded. “It’s just that Phil knows what fluxweed is and what it does, or more specifically, doesn’t do, and it didn’t give me a rash and he knows this and he hasn’t said anything.” This was all said in a quick breath, and Dan looked mortified. Zoe shared a look with Phil.

“What does it do?” Zoe asked Phil, and he opened his mouth to answer, but Dan was already answering.

“It has a venom that’ll cause most people to get a rash. But only if you have one of the symptoms that it’ll affect you for. Except I don’t have any of them because I didn’t get a rash and Phil knows I didn’t get a rash and so he knows that I’m not any of those things and still he hasn’t said anything and I just don’t get _why_.”

Phil was gaping at Dan. He knew his friend wouldn’t be saying these things of his own accord, but he was tied up and he couldn’t do anything to get Zoe to stop, who was paying attention raptly.

“untie us Zoe,” Phil demanded. She had barely even shook her head before Dan was continuing.

“And I didn’t want anyone to know that about me. Not yet at least. I’m already enough of a disappointment to my parents for ending up in Gryffindor but if they knew that too? Who knows what they’d do! They’d probably disown me! They’d probably think I’m disgusting or something, I don’t know!” he gasped, and now he was avoiding eye contact with them, his face pointed towards the sky.

“What is he talking about?” Zoe whispered to Phil, who again, didn’t have a chance to answer.

“I’m gay,” Dan sobbed, his body shaking. “I’m gay and you two are the only ones who know, but I was supposed to be the only one who knew!” his voice was shaky and wet, and Phil wanted nothing more than to move forward and hug him. But even if he wasn’t currently tied up, he still wouldn’t be able to.

“Dan,” Zoe said in a sensible voice. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay!”

“—and I don’t know why Lester hasn’t been treating me any differently ever since he found out. Shouldn’t he be treating me differently, now that he knows that _I’m_ different?”

“You’re exactly the same person I knew before I found out about your sexuality, Howell,” Phil said assuring. Zoe nodded approvingly, but rolled her hand as if saying _more_. Phil just looked at her questioningly, not knowing what else he should say.

“Plus, Phil’s not straight either,” Zoe said easily, talking over Dan and his constantly talking. Even this information managed to draw a pause in Dan’s stream of public consciousness, and Phil gaped at Zoe.

“B-but, I wasn’t even aware of that until recently!” Phil said. “I’m not even sure what I am! How’d you—”

Zoe burst out laughing. “ _What_? You didn’t _know_? But _I_ knew!”

“How?” Phil demanded. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

Zoe was still too busy laughing, and Dan was paying rapt attention, even as he muttered away uselessly.

“Well obviously I thought you knew already. And it’s not like it’s a big deal, I didn’t see any reason to mention it,” she explained with a shrug.

“But—” Phil managed, before Zoe continued.

“And it’s even more obvious that you both have major crushes on each other,” she said with a pointed eye roll. Phil spluttered in response, and Dan babbled so fast he was impossible to understand.

“Where’d you get that idea?” Phil finally managed to gasp. Zoe was staring between them incredulously.

“You two are so in denial!” Zoe said, and Phil’s face heated up in response. It did make sense, him having a crush on Dan. It would explain the way he felt when he watched Dan wake up, or the way he wished desperately that he could touch Dan, if he could only hold his hand. It explained how Phil felt when they’d gone skinny dipping, watching Dan in the water. Watching Dan walking up the stairs in just a large shirt…

It most certainly explained why when Phil thought of kissing Dan, there were no feelings other than _want_. He could imagine himself pulling Dan closer, hugging their bodies together, bending down to kiss Dan. Or better yet, lifting him up, and having Dan wrap his legs around Phil’s waist, while Phil pushed him against a wall…

“Right Dan? You have a crush on Phil, don’t you?” Zoe asked. Phil felt bad as he straightened up slightly, listening eagerly. He’d been trying to stop this when Zoe started it, but now he was only interested in what Dan had to say.

“Yes, obviously, and Zoe Sugg you’re a bitch! But I can’t help liking him, just like I can’t help being gay,” Dan said (thoroughly avoiding eye contact and addressing Zoe alone) “—and it’s just that he’s so cute and funny and, oh Merlin, please ask a new question!”

“Phil likes you too, don’t worry Dan,” Zoe informed, and Phil didn’t deny it. “He has dreams all the time about accidentally hurting you, you know. It’s why he can’t sleep.”

“Hey!” Phil shouted, and he honestly would have wrestled her to the ground and jabbed his wand into her neck if he wasn’t tied up. That was too far.

“Do you have any dreams about Phil?” Zoe said, smirking at Phil as she asked this question. Phil rolled his eyes.

“Yes I do, but—”

“Do they take place in the lake, by chance?”

“I— yes. Zoe—”

“And you’re both very, very unclothed in these dreams, I’ll take it?”

Dan’s face was the color of an actual tomato, as he answered, “yes,” with his eyes clenched closed.

“I think that you both should go to Madam Puddifoot’s coffee shop to talk about how much the two of you like each other, on a date, perhaps. What do you think of this idea, Dan?”

“I think it sounds like a good idea except for the fact that we can’t ever touch,” Dan said, with an evil glare at Phil’s best friend.

Phil’s hopes were suddenly dampened. Dan was right. If they couldn’t touch, then what was the point? They’d never be able to cuddle, to kiss, to hold hands…

“Damn,” Zoe said. “And you don’t know of any ways to reverse the spell?”

Phil scoffed. Obviously, Dan didn’t know! If he did, he’d have been making every effort to do it.

Dan’s mouth, however, morphed into a grimace, and with a darting look at Phil, which landed right back on Zoe, said, “well a centaur told me of a way to reverse it, but—”

“What?” Phil exclaimed.

“How?” Zoe demanded excitedly. Dan blushed.

“Well, we’d have to ‘have more love for each other’ than the amount of hate we had when the curse was placed,” Dan explained.

“That settles it!” Zoe cheered. “You two are going on a date! And you’re gonna keep dating until your Love Levels rise. Coffee’s on me,” she said, and dropped a galleon into Phil’s lap.

Then, with a wave of her wand, Zoe removed the spells. Phil was free to move, and so was Dan. Who also was no longer babbling.

Zoe turned and strutted away, and Phil debated chasing after her and hexing her toenails off, but instead he turned to Dan, who’s face was pressed into his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said immediately, and Dan laughed.

“Don’t be. At least now I know you have a crush on me.”

Phil laughed. “Yeah? Well what about those sex dreams of yours?” he taunted.

Dan’s flew to his feet and began marching in the direction of Hogwarts. “You’re never allowed to mention that again!” he demanded in a higher-than-usual voice.

“Is it because you don’t like to think of being aroused?” Phil joked, referring to the previous day, where Dan had become a blushing virgin at the prospect of an erection.

Dan groaned.

“Come on, I know a secret passageway to Hogsmeade,” Phil promised, and he led Dan to a statue of the One-Eyed Witch. As he walked, he thought of a day, hopefully soon, where they’d be able to do the exact same thing, except with their hands intertwined.


	13. Chapter 13

Hating Phil Lester was easy. Dan could remember it clearly, could remember the days when his first instinct was to glare when he laid eyes on the taller boy. Could remember how easily the feeling of hatred rose up inside him, boiling to the top and spilling over the sides in mean words and pointed hexes. Everything had been hot, had been fire, it’d been passionate and real and strong.

Falling in love with Phil Lester, however, was a lot harder than Dan had anticipated. Not even loving him, just, liking him more than he’d once hated him. It was difficult.

Firstly, they had no way to actually measure their amount of love. They also ran into the exact same problem when facing their previous hatred. They had absolutely no clue how to tell when they liked each other enough, and so it came to frequent tests.

Meaning, as Dan and Phil sat next to each other, after another long and strenuous day of dating and Zoe hovering by their sides, coaching them to try harder, to date better, to love more, they had to find out if they liked each other enough now.

“I feel quite… partial to you,” Dan had joked one evening. Phil had snickered in response, sharing a similar taste in humor, but Zoe had scoffed in exasperation. She seemed even more desperate for them to be able to touch than they were, and she’d made it her own personal challenge to help them fix their problem.

“Then test it,” she’d snapped, crossing her arms and tapping her foot almost angrily against the floor. Somehow, she and Phil had managed to coerce Dan back into the Slytherin common room despite the lack of alcohol. He’d felt distinctly out of place, and occasionally got weird looks from other Slytherins, which his Slytherin companions quelled with a glare.

“How?” Phil had asked, and Zoe had proceeded to answer with the most exaggerated and slow eye-roll of the year. It looked almost painful.

“How _else_?” she’d demanded. _“Touch each other.”_

Phil had immediately begun to splutter, shaking his head and denying outright. Dan, however, saw Zoe’s point. How else would they know when they managed to break the curse? If they never touched each other then they’d never know, and now was as good a time as any.

“Okay,” Dan had said with a shrug, meanwhile trying to stamp down the growing panic in his chest. They’d only have to touch for a second, it’d only hurt for a second and then it’d be over.

“What? Howell, c’mon,” Phil tried to argue, shrinking into himself and leaning away from Dan, as if he might pounce. “There’s probably some other way.”

“No there’s not,” Dan said simply, and truthfully. Because it was as easy as that. If they touched, and there wasn’t any pain, then the curse was broken. If it hurt, then they’d once hated each other more than they liked each other now, and they’d have to try harder to care about each other. (Zoe likely sitting by their sides, forcing them to admit how much they liked the color of the other’s eyes, or some shit like that.) “Besides,” he continued. “We had a great day. Maybe now we like each other more.”

“I feel like I liked you just as much a week ago,” Phil sighed, slouching down into his chair.

Zoe gasped in outrage, and Dan suspected that she was upset. “Don’t you _dare_ say that!” she’d snarled. “Not after all the dates you two have been on! Today you shared a butterbeer! _Shared_!”

Dan gaped at her in astonishment. In all honesty, he agreed with Phil. It barely even felt like they were going on dates anyway. They’d already been spending most of their time together lately, and this didn’t feel any different than those times spent together. Despite having a crush on Phil, and having his stomach fill with hippogriffs every time he thought of him and Phil on a date, it just didn’t feel like one. It still felt like he was just hanging out with his friend, and hopelessly pining after him. Except this time Phil knew about his pining. And apparently had feelings of his own in return.

Their dates especially didn’t feel like dates because of Zoe orchestrating them all. She planned their dates and outfits and what they should say to one another, and it was all so stiff and formal and fake and it didn’t even feel like _them_. Dan was wanting to go on dates less and less, and wanting to sneak away from Zoe, Phil in tow, more and more.

“…and I swear to Merlin,” Zoe growled, making Dan realize he’d zoned out for the majority of her rant. “If you two aren’t in love and fucking by then end of the week then I will rip your eyes from their sockets and feed them to each other!” With that, Zoe slammed her magazine down on the table, and stormed from the common room.

Dan turned to Phil, matching blushes adorned on their cheeks, and cleared his throat. He reached forward tentatively, and prodded the back of Phil’s hand with his finger. The familiar feeling of fire and ice and needles, and something almost like acid shot through the point of contact, and Dan immediately removed his finger with a gasp, avoiding Phil’s gaze.

“I really do like you,” Phil said earnestly. “Even if it still hurts when you touch me.”

“Maybe it’s because _I_ don’t like _you_ ,” Dan quipped, and Phil raised his eyebrows.

“Oh really? Because I seem to recall something about a dream…”

Dan threw a pillow at Phil’s face, who had no qualms about bringing up Dan’s mortifying sex dream. And often. Dan was starting to wonder if this was blackmail.

Grabbing the pillow off his face and tucking it behind his head, Phil closed his eyes, stretching his feet out towards the common room fire. Dan sighed, losing himself in thought once more. He couldn’t help feeling that it’d feel more like they were dating if they were able to touch. Of course, they couldn’t touch until they’d surpassed hate with love. And they had to do that by dating. It all felt very backwards to Dan.

—

“I wasn’t even awake when you came in last night,” Troye said, who prided himself on his ability to sleep and wake with the owls. Dan shrugged, overcome with a yawn.

“I accidentally fell asleep in Slytherin. Woke up to a first-year stuffing a quill in my ear,” he explained. He’d been a bit annoyed to wake up, disgruntled and confused, to find Phil staring at him in amusement. Something was itching inside his ear, and Dan had whipped his head to the side, yanking the quill out of the first-year’s hand, who’d giggled and departed from the couch, scurrying to his other first-year friends.

“You just let that happen?” Dan had demanded, his voice soft and quiet, unable to work properly as he was addled with sleep.

“Well you _did_ fall asleep in the midsts of a bunch of Slytherins,” Phil had reasoned.

“I shouldn’t have to worry when you’re around,” Dan had argued, before stretching out on the chair he was on, his joints popping, and slouching back into it. Unable to help it, his eyes slid closed again, and Phil had laughed, finally shooing him back to Gryffindor to get some proper sleep.

“Can’t believe you would just fall asleep down there,” Tyler said disbelievingly. He then held a spoon out in front of his face, staring at his reflection quizzically. With a small shrug, his hair turned green.

“What are you gonna do today, Dan?” Louise asked from directly beside him. He felt guilty, knowing he was going to have to blow her off once more. He knew he couldn’t help it, not when Zoe was drilling him and Phil the way she was. Already he was finding himself behind on homework, instead thrust on random and spontaneous dates. But Louise didn’t know this, nobody did.

“Erm, homework,” he lied, carefully keeping his gaze away from hers.

As breakfast ended, Dan stood from the table and made his way across the hall, until he was standing outside of the big wooden doors, waiting for Phil.

Phil soon appeared, Zoe by his side, looking desperate to escape.

“…and then maybe you could go for a swim?” Zoe was saying, and Phil shot Dan a secretive look, seeing as how both knew that that wasn’t a very good idea.

“Actually, we have to work on our project,” Dan interjected, and Phil brightened immediately.

“That’s right! So we’ll just be in the library,” he said, and immediately started walking away. “Let’s go, Howell!” he called over his shoulder.

Zoe sent Dan a murderous look, but he disappeared from her side with an apologetic shrug and hurried to catch up with Phil.

“That was genius,” Phil said, as Dan fell in step beside him. “I thought we’d never get away from her. All these dates are started to get exhausting. Er, no offense.”

“None taken,” Dan said cheerily. They arrived in front of the library, and Phil stopped.

“Are we _actually_ working on our project? I thought that was just an excuse,” he sighed, as Dan laughed and entered the vast room. He led the way towards a back table, one that they usually occupied. It was between many shelved and pushed against a wall, with a great view of the outdoors.

Dan grabbed a few books along the way, ones that might turn out to be useful and ones that Dan just found interesting. Phil climbed onto the table the second they arrived, and Dan sat on the chair in front of him, rolling his eyes. He pushed the pile of books onto the table, and grabbed a random one from the top. He doubted they’d actually get much, if any, work done today, but it was still a better prospect to be hiding out in a library with Phil then being forced to go on boring dates with him. Their time spent together, easy and relaxed and normal, always felt like a better time to Dan.

Slouching down in his seat, Dan flipped through the pages of the book, looking at the various pictures and explanations scattered throughout it. Phil was staring off into space, his fingers absently drumming the cover of a book Dan had picked up.

“Are you ever gonna tell me what happened in that dream?” Phil blurted suddenly, drawing Dan’s gaze up from his book. It took him a moment to realize what Phil was talking about, and when he did, he spluttered.

“No!” Dan said immediately, his cheeks filling with heat.

“Why not?” Phil complained, leaning down towards Dan, a puppy dog look on his face. “I mean, I was in it! Don’t I deserve to know?”

“No!” Dan said immediately, again. Because that was ridiculous. It was Dan’s (rather embarrassing) dream, and just because Phil had played a part in it does _not_ mean that he should know about the going ons in that dream.

“I won’t make fun of you,” Phil promised,and he scooted forward on the table, so that his legs were hanging off of it on either side of Dan’s chair, effectively trapping him in. Dan was level with Phil’s crotch, which he studiously looked away from, trying hard to keep his gaze locked on Phil’s face.

“I don’t care. It’s embarrassing,” Dan insisted and Phil laughed.

“It’s not. Besides, everyone has dreams like that,” he said with a shrug, and Dan glared at him.

“But they don’t _talk_ about it!”

“I wonder why you don’t want to talk about it so badly…” Phil pondered, cupping his chin and tapping his fingers against it thoughtfully. Dan was still blushing, and he was starting to get uncomfortably warm. Why was Phil so interested anyway?

Far away, some small part of Dan seemed to realize that Phil might have been _flirting_.

“I mean, what could we have done in that dream together that was so embarrassing?” he continued, and Dan shrunk in on himself. Phil was just doing this to embarrass Dan. He was much too confident for his own good, and much too open about sex as well.

“We never do anything,” Dan said sternly, before realizing his mistake.

“Never?” Phil questioned. “Present tense? Does this mean you’ve dreamed about me more than once?”   
“I— no!” Dan choked, pointing his flaming face down to his hands and ignoring Phil.

“Didn’t you go to Madam Pomfrey to get a potion?”

Dan neglected to respond. Truthfully, ever since he and Phil had started going on dates, he’d stopped taking the potion. He’d figured that it was okay to let those dreams happen now that he knew his feelings were mutual, and they were good dreams too. He didn’t see the harm in them, anyway.

At night Dan would simply put a privacy spell on his bed hangings, one that would block sounds from his dorm-mates, and went to sleep. Most mornings he woke up with an erection, or (embarrassingly enough) already soiled pants.

Phil gasped suddenly in realization. “You’ve stopped taking the potion!” he laughed, and Dan seriously debated shoving Phil, despite the pain he would have as a consequence.

“Shut up!” Dan begged, but Phil was just shaking his head ruefully, his legs swinging on either side of Dan.

“You like the dreams! And I mean, who wouldn’t? Personally, I think you’re doing the right thing. It’s just not natural to stop those dreams like that,” Phil said with a shrug.

Dan decided to just close his eyes, as this way he might avoid further embarrassment. It was, of course, a very bad plan, but he had no better alternatives.

“What do we usually do in your dreams, Howell?” Phil asked, his voice slightly lower than usual, husky sounding.

“What?” Dan squeaked, and Phil smirked at him, likely some Slytherin plan already forming in his mind.

“Well I’m sure we’re not just going out for lunch in your dreams. Surely we do something together?” Phil said suggestively, and Dan simply shook his head in response. His mouth felt too dry to speak.

“Nothing,” he finally managed to mutter, but Phil pretended not to hear, and kept speaking.

“I bet they’re really good. I bet I undress you slowly, taking forever and winding you up. I bet by the time you’re undressed you’re begging for it, so turned on that it hurts,” Phil whispered, and Dan no longer dignified him with a response. He just sat there, flustered and blushing and making eye contact with Phil, who was still towering over him from his seat on the table.

“I bet in your dreams you’re confident and move quickly, that you undress me and kiss me easily. But that’s just a dream. In real life I bet you’re shy, all bitten lips and quiet whimpers, asking permission to do just about everything. I bet your hands will shake when you try to unbutton my trousers, and I bet you’d squeak if I pinched your nipples.” Phil was really close to Dan, and all these words were spoken softly, quietly. Dan couldn’t help the way his breathing picked up, nor the quick beginnings of an erection in his pants. He could see that Phil was getting turned on too, and doing nothing to hide it.

“I can’t wait until I’ll be able to touch you, Howell. Because at first it’ll be all hand holding, and we’ll hug and kiss and cuddle, but you’re gonna scream when I _really_ touch you. I’m gonna touch you everywhere first, before I ever touch your cock. I’m going to have you pleading with me to touch you, as I run my hands over your sides, as I draw them over your hips, _oh so close_. But I’ll have to touch all of you first.”

Dan was not-so-subtly pressing his palm down on his erection, trying in vain to ease the pressure. Phil smirked when he caught sight of this, and an evil, Slytherin grin appeared on his face. “Take it out,” he said.

“ _What_?” Dan exclaimed. Perhaps he’d misunderstood.

“Take it out,” Phil said flippantly. “No one ever comes back here, and I know you want to.”

“I can’t just— do that! In public!” Dan squeaked, and Phil was still just staring at him, grinning evilly. He looked just as aroused as Dan felt, but he, apparently, didn’t feel the need to touch himself.

“Would you do it if I did it with you?” Phil suggested, and Dan was just about to insist that _no, he wouldn’t!_ when he stopped to think about it. He really did want this, could easily imagine him and Phil sitting close to each other, touching themselves and watching each other, imagining it was the other’s hand on themselves. He wanted to hear the noises Phil would make, and he wanted to do it while Phil was talking to him, saying those words that turned Dan on so easily.

“Maybe,” Dan whispered, Phil scooted backward on the table.

“Get up here,” he said. Dan clambered up, embarrassingly aware of the problem in his pants. Phil didn’t seem to find it a problem at all.

Phil began unbuttoning his trousers, and he reached his hand inside. “I’m not doing this alone,” he said quietly, and Dan realized that under his mask of confidence and dirty words, he was just as shy and new to this as Dan.

Dan reached down into his own clothes, wrapping his hand around his cock. He gasped at the feeling of his hand around himself, tempted to just start stroking himself beneath his clothes.

A new wave of arousal and embarrassment washed over Dan as he made eye contact with Phil. The fact that they were both holding their arousals, while _together_ , seemed overwhelming.

“On three?” Phil suggested, and Dan nodded, his mouth refusing to work. “One, two… three!”

Pushing aside his mortification, Dan tugged himself out of his clothes, his hand still held firmly around himself. Phil was staring at him avidly, and Dan drew his eyes to Phil’s erection. It was slightly bigger than Dan’s, with a tangle of curls around the base. Dan felt almost lost, unsure of what to do at this point.

Phil scooted closer, until their knees were almost touching, which would’ve been disastrous for Dan’s erections. Then his hand started to stroke himself, and, with effort, dragged his eyes back up to Dan’s face.

“When I can finally touch you Howell, you’ll have felt nothing like it,” Phil promised, and, like the dirty talk was a start button, Dan started stroking himself. “Hold out your hand,” Phil commanded.

Feeling slightly worried, afraid that Phil was about to take the time to touch Dan’s hand and see if the curse was broken, he held out his hand. Phil spit onto it.

“Wh—?”

“Touch yourself,” Phil said. Dan couldn’t do it while maintaining eye contact with Phil, but he lowered his hand back to his erection, and began stroking himself again. His hand moved easier now, with the help of Phil’s saliva. Dan’s face was red, from exertion now as well as embarrassment, but he couldn’t help remembering that it was _Phil’s spit_ that he was stroking himself with with every movement of his hand.

Suddenly Phil’s hand appeared in front of Dan’s face, and Dan knew what he wanted him to do. He’d never felt so self conscious about spitting before in his life, but he did it right into the palm of Phil’s hand, and watched as Phil stroked himself with it.

Dan was sure that he’d never been so turned on before in his life. He was simultaneously aroused past his breaking point and terrified of being found by Madam Pince or another student. He’d taken to scanning the surrounding uneasily, in between moments of clenched eyes and startled gasps. It was so different masturbating with someone else opposed to being alone, and he was so aware that Phil was watching his every movement, that they were watching each other and getting more turned on in response, which was entirely noticeable to the other.

“I wish I could touch you,” Phil whispered, and his hand was speeding up, his breaths becoming more labored. “I would lick you everywhere. I’d kiss your neck and suck on your nipples. I’d leave hickeys all over your thighs, and I’d tease you with my tongue, just barely flicking it over the tip of your cock—”

Dan interrupted him with a quiet whine, and he threw his head back, gasping for breath as he stroked himself. He could feel himself getting closer, Phil’s words filling his stomach with heat and making him shiver.

“Lester,” Dan gasped, the two-syllable name now seeming like a mouthful. “Close!” he gasped, opening his eyes, not remembering when they’d fallen shut.

“Come on, Howell,” Phil persuaded in that deep, sultry voice of his. Dan had no idea how he was managing to talk right now, not when his own brain had turned to mush, his words and logic uncorrelated. He couldn’t form a complete sentence even if he wanted to.

“Please!” Dan whined, for no reason in particular.

“That’s right, come on,” Phil said, his hand speeding up even more. “And soon we’ll be able to actually touch each other, and I can really do all these things to you, can really touch you—”

The thought of Phil actually touching him was too much for Dan, and he whimpered and moaned as the pleasure of his orgasm overtook him, shooting between his fingers and leaving him shaking in its tracks, gasping and panting, his heart thundering in his ears. Phil was coming too, a little less noisily than Dan, but just as pleasurably. They both drew still, cheeks flushed and bodies sweaty, sitting on the table.

Dan’s eyes suddenly widened. “Do you think anyone heard me?”

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but panic filled his eyes as the dreaded sound of footsteps came from an aisle over. “Fuck!”

The both scrambled to clean up, shoving everything back where it was supposed to be and scrambling to button their trousers.

“Merlin!” Phil gasped.

“Dan,” Dan corrected jokingly, but then his eyes befell the mess in between them, and he quickly drew his wand, trying to clean their mess from the table.

His hand was shaking with nerves, however, and he kept stuttering over the spell. The footsteps were getting closer, about to turn the corner.

“Lester!” Dan pleaded, and Phil turned to him with wide eyes. He frantically patted his pockets for his wand, before zeroing in on it on the floor, somehow knocked to the ground in their activities. It’d rolled partially under a shelf, and oh god they were doomed! There was come on the table and they were going to get expelled!

Phil yanked Dan’s wand out of his hand, and jabbed it at the table. _“Scourgify!”_

The mess disappeared, and they scrambled away from the scene of the crime, just as Zoe rounded the corner. She paused a few feet away from them, her eyes squinting, darting between them, before landing on the table.

“Ugh, gross!” she groaned, taking a step backward.

“What?” Dan asked incredulously.

“How’d you know?” Phil said at the same time.

“You’re both sweaty and red-faced, it’s obvious!” she exclaimed. “And there’s a little something on Dan’s tie.”

Dan’s eyes widened in horror, and he looked down at himself. Zoe burst out laughing.

“I’m just joking,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “but thanks for proving my point.”

“What do you want, Zoe?” Phil finally asked, and Zoe shrugged.

“A bunch of Dan’s Gryffindor friends were heading outside to play quidditch. I thought we might like to go watch,” she suggested. When she received blank looks in response, she groaned. “I’m bored, okay? I have nothing to do while you two are in here ‘studying.’”

“Fine,” Phil agreed, and picked his bag and wand up from the floor. Dan followed suit, prepared to leave.

“So it didn’t work, then?” Zoe asked as they exited the library.

“ _What_ didn’t?” Dan asked, not putting it past her to possibly be referring to their dicks or something. Zoe scoffed.

“What _else_? The curse! It didn’t break even after you—”

“Shh!” Dan interrupted, his cheeks aflame once more. “You can not say that word!”

“Masturbate?” Zoe said, and Dan whipped his head around, making sure no one was listening.

“Don’t!”

“Wank?” She said, with a sweet smile. “Oh, jerking off! Or beating the meatstick! Or—”

“Stop!” Dan begged, and Zoe laughed, looping her arm through his.

“Oh!” Phil said suddenly, and Dan whipped his head around to glare at the taller boy.

“Don’t you _da_ —”

“Shaking the snake!” Phil exclaimed.

There was a pause, and then they all burst into laughter, Zoe clinging desperately to Dan’s arm.

“But the curse really isn’t broken then?” Zoe questioned, after their laughter had finally turned into gasps, before dying down.

“Er, we kind of forgot to test it,” Phil said, shooting a sideways look at Dan.

Zoe stopped in the middle of the corridor. “Try it then!” she insisted.

Dan and Phil turned to face each other warily.

Desperately, Dan tried not to get his hopes up. He just wanted to be able to touch Phil so badly. He wanted to be able to hold his hand as they ventured down the corridors. He wanted to be able to lean against Phil while he read a book, to be able to trace his fingers over the back of Phil’s hand distractedly, without even thinking about it. He didn’t want to have to be afraid of them touching whenever they were together. He was sick of the pain and the fear and the longing.

Phil reached forward tentatively, his hand getting closer and closer to Dan’s, who was holding his breath, hoping and praying. Phil’s hand paused, centimeters from Dan’s, who took a shaky breath, and pressed it forward right against Phil’s fingers.

Zoe let in a startled, excited gasp, at the same exact moment that Dan whimpered as pain exploded in his fingers and yanked his hand back.

“Dammit!” Phil cursed, taking a step back and rubbing his eyes furiously.

Dan sighed in disappointment, knowing he really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. But he couldn’t help it, he’d just wanted it so bad, and it’d really seemed like the curse was going to be broken…

“I thought that was gonna work,” Phil said solemnly.

“Soon,” Zoe said, failing at hiding the disappointment in her voice.

Dan shrugged and followed his friends the the quidditch pitch, but he couldn’t help the slump in his shoulders, couldn’t help his disheartened footsteps. He was starting to wonder if it would ever work, if he and Phil would ever be able to touch each other, or if he’d be resigned to a world of pain and longing for the rest of his life.


	14. Chapter 14

It was nighttime. And it wasn’t Phil’s fault that he couldn’t sleep, it just so happened that every time he closed his eyes he was struck with images of Dan disheveled and panting, his face screwed up in pleasure, and then he was very much awake again. Phil wasn’t a stranger to sleepless nights either, that much was for sure, but he almost couldn’t stand it. He was in a state of drowsy half-hardness, and he wanted nothing more than to see Dan again.

Of course, it was then that Phil came to make a great decision. It was Dan’s fault that Phil couldn’t sleep, after all, so why shouldn’t Phil force him to brave the night with him? (To be perfectly honesty, Phil knew he was just making excuses for wanting to see Dan, but it couldn’t be helped.)

And so it was quietly that Phil snuck out of bed, pausing only to pull on a baggy pair of pajama bottoms and the closest shirt, before he crept out of the dorm. His wand was tucked in the waistband of his pants (his _actual_ wand, mind you. He wasn’t _that_ hard) and he kept his hand on the handle of it as he made his way through the Slytherin common room, prepared for trickery of any kind. It wasn’t unusual for Slytherins to hex each other if they caught one another for sneaking out. Usually it was under the ruse of “avoiding losing house points” but it was actually just an excuse to try out whatever jinx you’d been dying to use.

Thankfully, no one was lurking in the common room, and Phil made it into the corridor safely. Though leaving Slytherin would probably be the easiest part of his journey, seeing as he’d still have to sneak his way through various parts of the castle, manage to avoid both Filch and Mrs. Norris, and then, of course, figure out how to get into Gryffindor House. Phil was choosing to postpone the inevitable, however.

It was with great caution and unease that Phil journeyed through abandoned corridors, on one occasion ducking into a classroom to avoid Peeves. The castle was eerily dark and silent, and his quiet footsteps sounded thunderous in the corridors.

Phil breathed a sigh of relief when he finally made it up multiple staircases and arrived in front of the familiar portrait, from his one occasion there before. He’d made a wrong turn at the last staircase, and ended up standing in confusion at a dead-end, before having to backtrack and eventually end up where he wanted to be.

The fat lady was sleeping, occasionally muttering in her sleep, and Phil stared uneasily at the portrait. Even if he did manage to guess the password, would she let him in, knowing he wasn’t a Gryffindor? And further more, if she _was_ willing to do that, would she still do it if he had to guess a string of passwords before he actually got it?   
Deciding to take his chances, Phil cleared his through quietly. “Excuse me,” he whispered before prodding the painting lightly. The fat lady snorted in her sleep, jerking to the side and wrenching her eyes open.

“Who goes there?” she demanded. “And why are you out wandering so late? You should be in bed!” she insisted, and with that, she swung open, eyes already shutting closed again.

Not believing his luck, Phil scrambled through the portrait hole, pausing to examine the cheery common room. Everything was so red, it was like they needed the color as a constant reminder of what house they were in. _Then again,_ Phil thought, _they_ were _Gryffindors, and they definitely had more brawn than brains._

Phil glanced towards the stairs on either side of the common room (conveniently labeled _girls_ and _boys_ ) and made towards the boys’ one. It was as he was climbing the stairs that he pondered what he was even going to say to Dan when he woke him up. What his excuse was going to be. How was he going to explain how he’d broken into the Gryffindor common room? And further more, wouldn’t he feel embarrassed having Dan know that he’d done it just to see him?

Pushing his faint embarrassment and discomfort out of his mind, Phil forged onward. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. Still, he couldn’t help thinking that this entire endeavor had been an entirely too Gryffindor-like thing to do. Here he was, acting impulsively and risking his own skin, all for Dan. He’d obviously been spending too much time in the Gryffindor’s company. Distantly, Phil wondered if Dan had found himself picking up any Slytherin-like tendencies.

The door creaked open quietly when Phil pushed it, and he paused anxiously at the doorstep, debating wrapping his Slytherin coat right back around his shoulders and escaping, before he forced himself to calm down. Nobody had awoken, and Phil walked further into the room, tip-toeing towards Dan’s hangings.

Tentatively, he pulled them open, careful to keep his movements slow and quiet. His eyes fell on Dan, the moonlight filtering through the dorm enough to let Phil see him, and he smiled. The blanket was pulled up to Dan’s chin, and he was curled into a ball, only his head visible. His mouth was hanging open slightly, his currently curly hair falling into his face.

“Hey,” Phil whispered, leaning further into the hangings, his body now blocking the moonlight. “Howell. Wake up.”

Dan continued to snooze on, and Phil retrieved his wand from his waistband, using it to prod Dan’s sleeping figure a few times.

“Hm?” Dan made a noise in his sleep, and his breathing hitched slightly when Phil poked him again. Finally, his eyes opened and he took a moment to come to his senses, seemingly realizing he wasn’t alone.

Dan gazed up at him, his eyes squinted and tired from sleep. “Lester?” he muttered, and Phil smiled.

“Yeah.”

“What’re you doing here?” Dan asked, and Phil opened his mouth, but Dan continued. “Sex?”

Phil had a hard time containing his laughter, desperate not to wake Dan’s dorm mates. Still, a healthy amount of choked laughter escaped him as he shook with amusement.

“No,” Phil said, finally calming down.

“That’s usually what we do in these dreams,” Dan murmured, his eyes sliding shut again. Phil wasn’t about to let him go back to sleep, not after all the effort he’d had to go through to get up here.

“Well this isn’t a dream,” Phil informed, and Dan’s eyes slowly opened again, fixing on Phil.

“What?”

“You’re not dreaming.”

“Damn,” Dan muttered almost silently. “I like those dreams.”

Phil laughed into his hands once more, and Dan’s body stiffened as he actually began to wake up, seemingly realizing what he’d just said. “I’m really not dreaming?” he whispered.

“Come with me,” Phil responded. “It’s your fault I can’t sleep.”

Dan breathed heavily through his nose, his fists coming up to rub at his eyes. He sat up, the blanket falling down too pool around his waist, his chest bare. Finally he climbed out of bed, stumbling slightly and yawning, but surprisingly not protesting.

“Find my pajamas,” Dan commanded, and Phil rolled his eyes as he dug through Dan’s trunk, getting him a similar pair of pajama pants to his own, and grinning as he handed him a pink shirt, one that’d come from Phil in the first place.

Dan didn’t even seem to notice what he was pulling on, his eyes still being closed, as he dressed practically asleep on his feet.

Thankfully, he opened his eyes to navigate his way out of the dormitory, following behind Phil at a slow, shuffling pace.

“Where are we going?” Dan questioned, and Phil shrugged his shoulders.

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep I go to the astronomy tower, but we can go somewhere else,” he said.

“I think we should go to the astronomy tower,” Dan breathed, his voice shaky, as they climbed out of the portrait hole, one after the other.

Phil paused. “What?”   
“I think we should go.”

“But you don’t like heights,” Phil protested. “I really don’t mind going somewhere else. We could even stay in your common room if you’d like.”

“No, let’s go,” Dan said decisively, sounding a little anxious and scared, but determined. “I want to see the stars.”

“If it get’s too much for you, you’ll tell me?”

“Probably not.”

Phil sighed. “If you look like you’re about to vomit I’m dragging you back down here.”

“As long as you do it without touching me,” Dan mocked, and Phil scoffed, already leading the way.

By the time they arrived at the stairs to the astronomy tower, Phil was counting his lucky stars. He didn’t know how he’d been so lucky to avoid being found all night, but he wasn’t about to say anything and jinx it.

Phil sent Dan up the stairs first, so that he could stand behind him, and offer a small amount of comfort. There were walls on both sides of the staircase, so Dan didn’t have much trouble climbing up them, though Phil knew it was what was at the top that was the real problem. A large, circular tower, set high against the sky with low walls ringing around it. Chunks of the walls were missing, just like the towers in all the picture books.

Dan came to a halt as the stairs ended, leaving them standing on the tower, the beautiful night sky all around them. But Dan wasn’t looking at the sky, his eyes were clenched shut, his hands tightened in to fists, held stiffly by his sides. His breathing was shallow and quick, and already Phil was debating forcing Dan back down the stairs.

Instead, remembering Dan’s love for stars, and the fact that he hadn’t seen them from up here since first year, he tried to help.

“Let’s lay down,” Phil suggested. “That way we’ll be closer to the floor, and then we can look up at the stars. They’re really pretty.”

Dan nodded jerkily, but he made no move to sit down.

Carefully, Phil reached for Dan’s sleeve, pinching just the very end, and gently tugging it, encouraging Dan to sit down. Taking the hint, Dan slowly lowered himself the the ground, his hands immediately gripping onto the floor beneath him, as if the night’s light breeze was threatening to blow him off the tower.

“Lay back,” Phil encouraged, and Dan obeyed wordlessly. Phil followed, so that they were laying side by side, fingers inches apart. Phil ached to be able to reach out and hold his hand, though of course he wouldn’t. He hated even the times when he accidentally brushed Dan, watching as Dan flinched away, trying to play down his pain.

“Look,” Phil said finally, and it was obvious when Dan did, because he gasped. Phil shifted his gaze from the sky to the Gryffindor, who’s mouth was open in astonishment, the stars reflected in his eyes.

“Woah,” Dan said, rendered (almost) speechless by the sight before him. He seemed to have forgotten about where he was, his fear and unease fading into amazement.

“It’s so beautiful,” Dan sighs. “I can see why you come up here when you can’t sleep.”

“It is,” Phil agreed, but once again, his eyes slipped from the dazzling sight above him, and landed on the one beside him. He felt his cheeks heat, knowing that his words had more than one meaning.

“I’m glad I came up here,” Dan sighed, his gaze still fixed on the sky. He had eyes for nothing else, was absorbing all the times that he couldn’t see the stars like this. “Glad you took me up here.”

“Good,” said Phil simply. And it was. Phil didn’t want Dan to be afraid anymore, didn’t want him to not be able to appreciate things just because of his fear. And, quite frankly, it was Phil’s fault Dan had that fear anyway. It’d been the two of them on the tower that night, and if Phil hadn’t challenged him to a duel in the first place, Dan never would’ve been on the tower, they never would’ve fought. Dan never would’ve had the curse placed on him.

Dan finally drew his gaze away from the sky, and his eyes found Phil’s.

“Hi,” Phil said, and Dan giggled.

“Hi,” he whispered. Like a secret.

They grinned at each other, the stars in the sky surrounding them like a blanket, in their hair and their eyes and their blood. Phil couldn’t help staring into Dan’s eyes, the depths of which seemed never ending, a beautiful mix or caramel and chocolate, honey and flecks of gold, intelligence and love. Phil’s thoughts stuttered to a stop at that, but he supposed it was true. And he knew he felt the same way towards Dan, knew from the way his heart filled, seemed to inflate, when Phil looked at Dan. Knew from the way Dan looked at the stars, and how it made Phil feel. Knew from the way that Dan was just as beautiful as the night sky, just as gentle and wonderful and intricate.

On accident, perhaps because of Phil’s subconscious, so obsessed with Dan, they touched. Phil’s hand had somehow gotten too close to Dan’s, and their fingers had bumped, both of them immediately flinching backwards, yanking their hands away.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” Phil cried, but Dan was just staring at his hand, his mouth agape, his starlit eyes filled with wonder.

“Merlin,” Dan breathed.

“I’m so sorry,” Phil repeated. “Are you okay?”   
Dan turned his head slowly, and just as slowly, his mouth transformed into a grin, his eyes lit up. “Merlin!” he gasped.

“What?” Phil demanded, anxiety gnawing at his insides.

But Dan was laughing, giggling, holding his hands in front of his eyes.

“Howell!”

Quite abruptly, Dan rolled over, his body colliding with Phil’s, rolling overtop of him, pinning him to the ground.

“No!” Phil gasped, trying to push Dan off. “Oh no!” He didn’t know what had gotten into Dan, but he knew his body must be wracked in pain, aching and hurting all over. Dan was shaking with how hard it hurt, sobbing… laughing?

“Wha—?” Phil began, but Dan dived on him, his body still pinning Phil, Dan’s hands trailing all over him, touching his chest and arms, digging into him, hard, as if none of this was real.

Dan’s lips were on his, and it was magic, it was better than any magic Phil ever could’ve performed, better than any spell he could’ve cast. His lips were soft but chapped, and they were insistent, pressing against Phil’s hurriedly, as if making up for lost time, lost kisses. And it felt good, wonderful, but something niggled in the back of Phil’s mind. Fear, worry.

He pulled away from Dan, with difficulty, and stared into his eyes. “Aren’t you in pain?” he asked, though clearly Dan wasn’t. Something had changed.

“None,” Dan whispered, his grin splitting his face in two, shining in his eyes.

Relief washed over Phil, and want, and love. He wrapped his arms around Dan, hugged him close, squeezed the hell out of him. Then he flipped them over, pressed Dan against the ground, ran his fingers over Dan’s chest, his collarbones. He thread his fingers through Dan’s hair, and ran his thumb over Dan’s lip, and pressed it against his eyelids. He wanted to touch everything.

Then he was kissing Dan again, had come back for more, couldn’t help it. Dan’s mouth was hot and intense, and his tongue was insistent, determined. It poked it’s way into Phil’s mouth, and Phil sucked on it, didn’t know what he was doing but did it anyway, and Dan gasped.

Phil couldn’t help it. He started biting Dan’s lips, wanted to consume him, wanted to wrap himself around the beautiful boy beneath him, to hug him close and intertwine and never let go. Dan was making little noises into their kiss, was humming and gasping, and Phil couldn’t get enough.

It took Phil three attempts to finally pull away from Dan, lifting himself slightly off of the shorter boy, who was panting and gasping beneath him. Belatedly, Phil realized he was too.

“Curse?” Phil panted. “Gone?” Just to make sure.

In response, Dan pressed his cold fingers against Phil’s stomach, under his shirt. Phil shivered, and it wasn’t just because of the cold.

And the next day, when they stumbled down from the astronomy tower, cold and hungry, and sore from accidentally falling asleep on the hard ground, Phil didn’t mind at all. And Dan, with his hand held firmly in Phil’s, didn’t seem to have any objection either. And even if they were exchanging ecstatic, delighted smiles with every other step - well, they barely even seemed to notice.

—

Dan and Phil had been playing it cool. Over the last few days, they’d managed to not touch in front of anyone, and continue on the way they had been. This, of course, was solely for selfish reasons. They simply wanted to be with just one another for a little while, without anyone else interfering.

There was also the small problem that Dan wasn’t out to any of his friends, and neither of them knew how the school would react when to seemingly straight guys were suddenly dating, and suddenly gay. This was only a small problem, however, and it was easy to see past. Because they had each other, and they were always touching. They were constantly trying to make up for all the times that they couldn’t touch, and so they sat pressed together in the library, holding hands in empty corridors, kissing under the shade of trees.

“I think I should tell my friends soon,” Dan sighed, doodling on his parchment. He was supposed to be researching information about a snitch, but Phil wasn’t working either, so he couldn’t blame him.

“All right,” Phil said absently, as he reached towards Dan’s paper, scrawling a messy heart towards the top.

They were sitting so close that they were practically on top of each other, their arms and legs lined up exactly.

“What are you gonna say?” Phil asked. Dan cleared his throat dramatically.

“Everyone, this is Phil. My boyfriend.”

“But they already know who I am,” Phil protested.

“They don’t know that you’re my _boyfriend_ ,” Dan said, that dazed little smile covering his face, the one that he usually got when he said ‘boyfriend’.

Dan shoved the paper away, and Phil’s current doodle smudged, and he frowned at Dan. “You messed up my drawing.”

“You know what’s better than drawing?” Dan said suggestively.

“I could guess.”

Dan rolled his eyes, before shifting to the side and sliding onto Phil’s lap, squished between him and the table. Phil’s lap had become one of Dan’s favorite place to be, and he could often be found sitting on it or using it as a pillow. Usually though, when Dan was on his lap, they were kissing.

Phil had expected that, with time, kissing Dan would make him less breathless and dizzy, would stop wiping his brain of any conscious thought with the touch of their lips. He was wrong. When Dan kissed him, his brain vacated the area, leaving him to fend for himself. His hands tightened in Dan’s shirt, likely wrinkling the fabric.

He sighed into Dan’s mouth, and Dan nibbled on his lip in response, his hands clutching at Phil.

“Stop that!” someone shrieked, and they jumped away from each other in surprise, Phil’s head still spinning. He was dazed, and he wondered for a moment if perhaps the books had yelled at him, when the voice spoke again. “There is _no_ kissing in the library! It defiles the books!”

Dan was blushing vibrantly, likely at being caught kissing as well as being caught in Phil’s lap. And by Madam Pince, no doubt. It was obvious, now that Phil’s brain had made a tentative re-entrance. She was standing somewhere behind Phil, and though he couldn’t see her, he could see Dan, and his mortified and slightly scared expression.

“Shoo! Get out of the library!” Madam Pince continued, and they didn’t need any other warning. They scrambled to their feet, Dan awkwardly escaping from Phil’s lab, and they darted past the librarian, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

The second they bursted out of the library, Dan was giggling. He grabbed Phil’s hand, yanking him after him and tugging them down random hallways, until shoving him into an alcove.

“That was horrible,” Dan groaned, but a smile was stuck firmly to his face, and he was pressed right up against Phil.

“I don’t think she plans on telling anyone,” Phil responded with a casual shrug. Dan pressed closer against him, grinning wickedly.

“No,” he said, “but she _did_ interrupt something.”

And they were back at it. Dan pressing against him, so warm and small, his body lean and firm. Phil had to crane his neck to kiss him, and Dan was already on his tip toes, and they were needy and impatient, pressing together again and again without a care.

Impatiently, Phil flipped them around and shoved Dan up against the wall, after lifting him up. Dan wrapped his legs around his waist, held up by the wall and Phil’s hands under his thighs. Dan looped his arms around Phil’s neck, pulling them closer, kissing him harder.

Dan finally started to make those wonderful gasping sounds that he made when they were making out, when he forgot himself and stopped holding back. Encouraged, Phil pressed against him even more, wanting every part of their bodies to touch, wanting Dan to never stop making that sound.

“Students!” a sudden voice barked, and Dan groaned against his lips, unwilling to pull away. “No kissing in the corridors! Step away from each other immediately! And put that boy _down_!”

With horror, realizing exactly who’s voice it was yelling at them, Phil let go of Dan’s legs, letting him slide to the floor. They stepped away from each other, staring fixedly at the floor.

“Sorry Professor,” Phil managed, still keeping his eyes to the floor, hoping that Professor McGonagall wouldn’t recognize them. He took Dan’s hand, dragging him along and trying to sidle past McGonagall, when suddenly she gasped, and Phil knew they’d been caught.

“Howell? Lester?” she said incredulously, and Phil released Dan’s hand in embarrassment, his eyes flicking between the floor and Professor McGonagall.

“Yes, Professor?” Phil said, trying for innocence.

“Wha— How?” she broke off, still looking at them in amazement, before she seemed to come to a conclusion. “You fell in love,” she stated.

“I— well…” Phil began, at the same moment that Dan said, “I mean—“

“Come with me,” McGonagall commanded, before she spun around and made for the opposite directions.

“Is she going to put the curse back on me?” Dan whispered worriedly, and Phil reached out to comfort him, intertwining their fingers once more.

“She wouldn’t dare,” Phil said harshly, thought just as quietly, aware that the subject of their discussion was mere feet ahead of them. “Not that we don’t hate each other anymore.”

“But she hates me,” Dan insisted, and Phil squeezed his hand tighter.

“Only because she thought you were about to push me off a tower,” Phil quipped.

“I wouldn’t have pushed you,” Dan muttered, and Phil laughed.

“We’ll be okay,” he promised.

—

They were _not_ okay.

Sure, McGonagall didn’t put the curse back on Dan. Sure, she didn’t threaten to separate them or fail them on their project or demand that they break up. No, she talked to them. About sex.

  
Phil had probably never been more embarrassed, and he would wager that Dan hadn’t been either. The Babbling Hex had been bad, but not _this_ bad.

“Understand?” McGonagall said finally, and Dan and Phil both nodded their heads immediately, desperate to escape. “All right. You are excused.”

Not even bothering with the pleasantries, no “thank you”s or “have a good day”s, they bolted from the office, tumbling out of the room as quickly as they could and escaping into the hallway, mortified and desperate to hide away for the next ten years.

“I want to die,” Dan informed. Phil nodded in agreement. Nothing sounded better.

“And, no offense,” Dan began, “but I’m not having sex with you until I can forget about McGonagall explaining how to _prepare each other_.”

Phil shivered violently in disgust. “Normally I like thinking about you naked,” he said, unabashed, “but now all I can imagine is Mcgonagall off to the side, telling me to use _lube_!”

“I think I need to go to bed,” Dan admitted.

“I’ll walk you,” Phil said, and linked their hands together again. Despite being thoroughly disgusted by an old, stern woman teaching them all about gay sex, he was still going to enjoy his time with Dan.

~~

PS TOMORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY AHHHHH


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's smut in this chap btw!!

“Ready?” Phil whispered, despite the fact that they were alone and there was absolutely no need for whispering.

“Yes,” Dan replied just as quietly, despite this.

Dan wasn’t entirely sure if “ready” was what he would describe himself as. Nervous? Most definitely. Scared? Absolutely. Ready to turn tail and hide in one of the many secret alcoves throughout Hogwarts? Just about.

“Then let’s go.” Phil pushed open the door for the boys’ dormitory. Dan was holding his breath, his heart already beating faster. The door swung wide open, revealing… an empty dorm.

“Where are they?” Dan asked, and Phil raised an eyebrow at him, because how the hell would he know? Secretly, Dan was kind of relieved that his friends weren’t here. Because once he saw them, he’d be telling them. Telling them that he was gay and dating Phil Lester. _In love with_ Phil Lester.

They’d barely even planned out how they were going to do it. The extent of their plan had been to walk into the dormitory and hope that their brains improvised and took it from there. Dan was almost convinced that he should just link his hand through Phil’s and watch his friends go ballistic. Or maybe he could just kiss Phil, although then he wouldn’t see anyone’s reactions, and he’d likely be too caught up in the kiss to register what they were saying either.

“Oh well,” Dan said, not-so-regretfully, and flung himself onto his bed. Phil shrugged and took to examining the dorm, likely in greater detail than he’d had the chance to last time.

He flipped open Dan’s trunk and started going through Dan’s possessions, as if he might not have anything personal in there. Phil pulled out clothes, commenting on some of Dan’s more colorful underwear and making Dan blush. Phil gave him a pointed glance when he pulled out the Slytherin scarf, and Dan shrugged, unabashed.

“No way,” Phil breathed, staring into the trunk.

“What is it?”

Phil reached in, pulling out a delicate quill. It was long, and black with white streaks in it. The nub was gold on one side and silver on the other, and it was beautiful. Truthfully, Dan had forgotten he’d stolen it all those years ago.

“You _kept_ this?”

It was the quill that they’d made together in first year. They’d been paired for partner transfiguration, and the quill they’d made together had been astounding. At the time Dan hadn’t been able to believe that they’d made something so great together, that anything involving the two of them could have a good outcome.

But it had been good. It’d been great, even, and Dan had duplicated the quill, had turned one in to McGonagall and kept the other for himself.

“I liked the way it looked,” Dan said, and Phil laughed.

“I remember wanting to keep it also. How did you get it back from McGonagall?”

“I didn’t. I just duplicated it,” Dan explained casually, though Phil was gaping at him.

“When you were _eleven_? I still have trouble duplicating things now!” Phil complained, staring at him in astonishment.

Dan shrugged, and flicked his wand at the quill, which immediately split into two, the second identical to the first.

“Show off,” Phil muttered, but tucked one carefully into his bag. He stood up, continuing to explore the dorm.

“Where are all the mirrors?” Phil questioned from inside the bathroom.

“What?”

“The mirrors! Where are they? You guys only have them over your sinks,” Phil answered.

“Where do you have them?” 

  
“ _Everywhere_.”

“That’s because Slytherins are self obsessed. They like to look at themselves constantly,” Dan teased, and Phil prowled out of the bathroom, before pouncing onto the bed. He grabbed Dan’s wrists and pinned them above his head, his body holding down the rest of him.

“Or maybe we like to watch as we have sex,” he said flirtatiously, and Dan laughed, half-heartedly struggling against his human restraint.

“How often do Slytherins have sex in bathrooms?” Dan joked.

“All the time,” Phil said instantly, in a reasonable tone of voice. “It’s the smartest place to do it. The showers provide privacy, and the sound of them is likely to drown out most other sounds. And you can’t make a mess.”

“Typical of Slytherins to be calculating, even about sex,” Dan laughed.

“Let me guess,” Phil said mischievously, “Gryffindors are _needy_ and _impatient_.” With each emphasized word he pressed Dan’s wrists harder into the bed. “And they just can’t wait. They’ll pull down their pants anywhere if it means getting what they want.”

“Sounds about right,” Dan breathed. All this talk about sex, embarrassingly enough, was beginning to make Dan hard. And with Phil laying on top of him, there was no doubt he’d be able to feel it soon.

Phil sat up slightly, enough to pull the hangings closed around the bed, and then sank back on top of Dan, his lips finding his neck. Dan’s breathing stuttered as Phil licked his neck, before he nipped it slightly, and proceeded to suck the sensitive skin into his mouth. Dan made an embarrassing sound, something breathy, like a gasp mixed with a whine, and color invaded his cheeks because of it. He tugged on his wrists, which Phil had again grabbed and pinned against the bed, but it was hopeless.

“Lester,” he breathed, and Phil smirked against his neck.

“Say my name,” he said, his lips brushing against Dan’s skin as he spoke, his breath washing across his neck, making him shiver. “My first name.”

“Lester,” Dan said stubbornly, a giggle following immediately afterward.

“I’ll _make_ you say it,” Phil threatened, and then attacked his neck with renewed vigor. His tongue and teeth dragged embarrassing noises out of Dan, who, without noticing it, had begun arching into Phil. His face flamed with embarrassment and he lowered his body back to the bed, hoping Phil hadn’t noticed.

“Don’t hold back,” Phil murmured, and yes, of course he’d noticed. Still, Dan stayed pressed firmly against the bed, dead-set on not embarrassing himself any further.

Phil let go of his hands, apparently having more important things to touch. One of his hands shoved itself under Dan’s head, like a cushion, and his fingers threaded through Dan’s hair. The other snaked its way under Dan’s shirt, except Phil’s fingers were freezing, and goosebumps lay in their wake, while Dan cringed away from him.

“Cold,” he complained, and Phil didn’t respond except to swipe his hot, hot, hot tongue against his neck, and to drag his freezing fingers over Dan’s stomach, up to his chest, where he fingered Dan’s nipple. Dan’s breaths stuttered to a stop, while Phil’s finger flicked over his nipple. Phil noticed this reaction, and he pulled away from Dan’s neck, instead propping his head on Dan’s chest and staring at his face, watching his reactions.

“Stop,” Dan whined, his eyes flicking to the ceiling and to the sides, avoiding Phil’s face. Knowing that Phil was watching him and his reactions felt embarrassing. And intimate.

Phil ignored his complaint and kept his eyes locked firmly on Dan’s face, as his finger flitted across Dan’s nipple again, making him suck in his breath. Dan felt it wasn’t fair, seeing as, on an adventurous occasion, he’d played with his own nipples to see if they were sensitive or if it even felt good. He’d felt virtually nothing though, and now that it was Phil touching them, they were suddenly pleasure centers? That couldn’t be fair.

Phil’s fingernail scratched lightly against it, and Dan closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his face anymore. He was breathing deeply, desperate to get air without panting for it. Suddenly, Phil’s fingers came together and pinched his nipple, making Dan gasp audibly, his eyes flying open, as he arched his body wantonly into Phil’s.

“Oh _Merlin_ ,” he whispered, still steadily avoiding Phil’s eyes. And, to make matters worse, he’d definitely just grinded his erection into Phil’s thigh, which was so _not on_. His face was burning, pretty much a familiar fixture whenever he was around Phil.

“You’re so cute,” Phil whispered in return, and Dan finally looked at him, in order to glare. In response to his glare, however, Phil just pinched his nipple again, making his eyes flutter, his breath stutter.

“I hate you,” Dan complained, and Phil leaned forward, his lips pressing against Dan’s.

“You love me,” he said against them, before they started actually kissing, lips sliding against each other, tongues licking across them, sneaking into the other’s mouth.

Dan couldn’t help it. It happened every time they started making out, and he’d make these embarrassing gasping noises, which he could only hold back for so long. Soon he’d loose control, and find himself panting and gasping into Phil’s mouth, while Phil threaded his fingers in Dan’s hair, dragged his hand up and down his sides.

Phil’s hand found its way to Dan’s waistband, and he didn’t pull it down, he just shoved his slightly-less-cold thumb underneath them, making Dan shiver violently, and not because of the temperature.

“Woah Dan! Who do you have in there?” a voice said suddenly, followed by a chorus of laughter. Of course. Of _course_ they weren’t here when Dan and Phil had come looking, but now that Dan had a _raging erection…_

Phil scooted off Dan, who sat up and ran his hands carefully through his hair, trying to make it look less sex-mussed.

“Um,” Dan answered, suddenly forgetting the millions of speeches he’d prepared in his head of what he was going to tell his friends.

“That was you making those sounds, wasn’t it Dan?” Tyler teased from outside the hangings, and Dan’s face flared brilliantly as he glared toward the voice. Phil snickered quietly beside him. “I mean, if they’re making you feel like _that_ , they’re a keeper!”

And, because something was incredibly, incredibly wrong with Dan, he replied, “actually, he’s a seeker.”

Phil slapped both hands over his mouth to try to hide his outbreak of laughter, and there was silence outside the hangings, before a cheer went up.

“Dan is _getting some_!” one friend cheered.

“We only have hot seekers in this school,” Tyler said contemplatively.

“Do you think it’s the Ravenclaw seeker?” Connor questioned, and Dan and Phil shared a look, their eyes full of mirth.

“It can’t be the Gryffindor seeker, he’s in the common room,” Troye said. Dan could practically hear their minds working.

There were sudden footsteps on the stairs, someone else venturing into the dorm. “What’s going on?” asked a distinctly female voice.

“Dan is hiding a man in his bed,” Connor stated proudly.

“And Dan was moaning like a pornstar because of him,” Tyler added.

“Was not!” Dan shouted indignantly.

“Was too,” Phil whispered into his ear, the heat of his breath washing over him, making him shiver. This in no way helped his erection to go down.

“We’re trying to find out whose in there,” Troye explained, and Louise laughed.

“That’s easy!” And then there were footsteps, ones that led directly to Dan bed, and the hangings were being ripped open.

“ _What_?”

“Lester?”

“How the hell?”

“Lester made Dan _moan_!”

Dan glared at his friends, defiantly raising a middle finger towards them. Although he was appreciative for none of them acting surprised or disgusted at the fact that Dan was with a boy.

“How are you guys even able to touch?” Troye finally asked.

Dan shrugged nonchalantly. “We broke the curse.”

“And to think we thought we were the only gay ones,” Tyler sighed.

“What?”

“Me, Troye, and Connor. We thought we were the only gays of this dorm,” he said with a casual shrug.

“You guys are gay too?”

There was a long silence.

“Dan,” Troye said simply, staring at him incredulously.

“Do you live under a _rock_?” Connor demanded.

“We talk about boys during almost every meal!” Tyler exclaimed.

Louise broke into sudden laughter, the kind that someone has when they realize something. “Well Dan’s never listening to you guys, is he? He’s always staring at Lester!”

Dan’s cheeks filled up with heat, and he glared at his so-called friends. “That’s not true!”

This only spurned on their laughter though, and Dan grabbed Phil’s hand, dragging him out of the bed. “We’re leaving.”

Dan stomped past his laughing friends, earning many slaps on the back and congratulations, before he and Phil were able to disappear down the stairs. They walked briskly through the common room, earning only a few questioning glances, before they’d escaped Gryffindor altogether.

“Let’s find Zoe,” Dan suggested. “She’ll take our news better.”

—

“ _I_ — _hate_ — _you_!” Each word was punctuated with a punch to Phil’s body, while Dan stood aside in astonishment.

“Zoe,” Dan began, reasonably.

“And _you_ —” she growled, spinning to face him, finally leaving Phil alone. Despite the assault, he was smiling, bitting his lip as if to prevent laughter. Dan didn’t know what he found so funny about his terrifying best friend.

Dan hands immediately found the air in an act of surrender.

“Don’t you dare touch my boyfriend, Zoe,” Phil said pleasantly from directly behind her. He rested his chin on Zoe’s head, and feeling disgruntled, Dan once again realized that both of these Slytherins were taller than him.

Zoe’s eyes softened. “Boyfriends!” she squealed, and the abrupt change of attitude scared Dan more than Zoe beating up his boyfriend had.

Dan had been pressed against the Slytherin boys dormitory wall when Zoe had walked in, with Phil pressing him against it, obviously. It seemed that they couldn’t walk into an empty room without making out in it, apparently. Zoe had immediately pulled Phil off of him and laid into him with her fists, while Phil’s eyes had filled with mirth.

“Obviously,” Phil said with a roll of his eyes.

“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me immediately,” Zoe sighed, and Dan finally realized what this was about. That she’d attacked his boyfriend because she felt upset and left out.

“Well we only found out the other day,” Dan said, and Zoe’s eyes lowered into a glare once more, and found him.

“ _The other day_?” she hissed.

“And we’ve been so busy kissing that we haven’t had a chance to tell anyone,” Phil added hurriedly. Zoe’s expression smoothed once more.

“Fine. But you’re buying me a butterbeer for leaving me out,” she informed, and then she flounced from the room.

Dan was still busy staring after her when Phil grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the bathroom, a wicked smirk adorning his face.

And there really were mirrors everywhere. No matter where Dan looked, he could find himself staring back at him. It was kind of disconcerting. Phil dragged Dan into a stall which, surprise surprise, was covered in more mirrors.

“Shower with me?” Phil whispered huskily into his ear, and Dan was nodding fervently, because if that wasn’t a great idea then he didn’t know what was.

Phil reached for the hem of Dan’s shirt, and he tugged it up over his head. Dan watched him do it about fifty times at once, in the reflections upon reflections in the mirrors. Dan concentrated on Phil, feeling dizzy, looking at all the half naked Dans.

He pressed his fingers against the bare skin beneath Phil’s shirt, and feeling encouraged, pushed it up and over his head. Phil kissed him as he reached for Dan’s trousers, pushing both those and his pants down at once, leaving Dan naked. Phil pressed him against the glass, which was freezing, and Dan made a noise in his throat, trying to arch away from the glass, which only had him arching into Phil.

Phil pushed him harder into the cold glass though, and goosebumps erupted all along his body, while Phil’s hands trailed heavily down his arms, over his chest, down his chest, closer and closer, down and down and…

His hands disappeared, and Dan wrenched open his eyes, realizing they’d fallen shut, to watch Phil strip off the last of his clothes, leaving them both naked and hard and wanting. Phil used his wand, giving it an impatient flick towards the wall, to make the shower turn on, already hot.

“I want you so bad,” Phil groaned, pressing himself back against Dan, breathing heavily over his ear, dragging his lips across his neck.

“You can have me.”

Phil moaned at that, and pressed himself harder against Dan, looping his arms around him, tugging them away from the mirror and under the stream of water, held tightly together.

They kissed fervently under the water, their hair plastered to their faces and their bodies slick and sliding together. Phil whispered something, some kind of spell, and then his fingers found their way under Dan, slick with lube.

“Just one finger, okay?” Phil said assuringly, and Dan nodded, feeling desperate and needy and ready.

They were still pressed firmly together, and Phil was peppering kisses all over his face and his finger pressed against his hole. Dan had a brief flash of embarrassment, because this was definitely the most private part of him, before Phil was applying pressure and sliding his finger in, and Dan was stiffening in Phil’s hold.

“Does it hurt?” Phil asked, and he stopped pushing his finger further in.

“Not really. It just feels… weird,” Dan said, trying to explain. It was surreal, the fact that he was talking to Phil who currently had a finger _inside_ him. Perhaps by mistake, Dan glanced into a mirror, and saw the image of himself pressed against Phil, arms twined around him, while Phil’s was beneath him, his fingers out of view. But Dan knew where they were, and being able to see it all was incredibly hot. Maybe Slytherins did have the right idea…

Experimentally, Dan squeezed around the intrusion, immediately gasping in response. It felt good, full. “Keep going,” he whispered, shoving his face into Phil’s chest, hiding his reddening face. Phil pressed his finger further into Dan, before sliding it out and pressing it back in. Occasionally, Dan squeezed around it, causing pleasure to zip through his stomach. He tried not to think about the fact that he was squeezing _around_ Phil, who was voluntarily putting his fingers… there.

Soon Phil was slipping in another finger, pressing them higher inside Dan, twisting them slightly…

“ _Oh_!” Dan shouted, accidentally bucking against Phil, squeezing him tighter against himself. Dan was panting, his legs shaking slightly, at the feeling that’d just thrummed through his body. It’d felt so good. “D-do that again,” Dan pleaded.

Phil pressed against _it_ again, and a gasp was ripped from Dan’s throat, and he bucked backwards against Phil’s fingers, and then forward against Phil’s body. It was embarrassing, how he was losing control, but he couldn’t help it, the feeling of Phil’s fingers inside of him was too good.

Another of Phil’s fingers slid into Dan, and they were both becoming more impatient for the real thing. “Enough, that’s enough! I just want you inside me,” Dan whined shortly later, and Phil seemed relieved, seemed desperate.

He spun Dan around, pressing him closer to the mirror, which Dan put his hands on and leaned against. Phil was behind him, his hands running up and down his back, snaking around to his stomach, teasing his nipples.

“You’re sure?” he asked, and Dan didn’t know how he had so much restraint, so much composure. He nodded in response, his wet hair falling into his eyes, and he raised a shaky hand to push it away.

“Please.”

Phil was careful and slow as he pushed in, and Dan watched in the mirror as his mouth fell open, as his breathing picked up. He saw his face flush with pleasure, his eyes go glassy with it. He watched as the moan fell from his mouth, and his eyes flicked over his shoulder, where he could see Phil, his eyes screwed shut and his teeth digging down into his lip, groaning through it. His hands were pressed hard into Dan’s hips, likely leaving marks, and when Phil finally bottomed out, they both moaned. Dan clenched around Phil, who jerked slightly, and squeezed Dan tighter.

“Fuck,” Phil breathed, leaning down and resting his head against Dan’s back. “ _Fuck_ , you feel so good. Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Dan answered, though his legs were shaking visibly, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hold himself up. “Please!”

And Phil pulled out slightly, before pressing right back in, and Dan was gasping all ready, couldn’t do anything to hold back his noises.”Lester!” he whined.

“Phil,” Phil corrected, and Dan smirked mischievously and he squeezed around Phil and called him Lester once more.

Phil pulled out, almost all the way this time, and pressed back in, making Dan jerk forward with the pressure. He felt so full, so good, and he nearly went cross-eyed with the pleasure of it.

And Phil did it again. And again. His hands pressed against Dan’s body, all over it, as he rocked into him, picking up speed, going faster and harder.

Dan keened when Phil slammed into that spot again, his wet hands slipping down the mirror. He stumbled forward a bit, and Phil wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him back against his body. Dan’s legs were trembling, and his head was thrown back, resting on Phil’s shoulder, and their moans tangled in the air.

“Can’t stand,” Dan panted, and Phil nodded, apparently unable to speak. They slid to the floor together, Dan on his hands and knees, with Phil directly behind him, leaning over him. Phil linked their left hands together on the floor, while his right hand caressed Dan, slid over the dents in his spine, circled his chest, pinched each of his nipples in turn and slid lower and lower, before wrapping around his cock for the very first time.

“ _Phil_!” Dan moaned, as Phil slammed into him again, hitting that spot, just as he stroked Dan and twisted, his thumb sliding through the slit. And Dan didn’t even care that he’d just given in to Phil, said his name just as he wanted, because it felt _so good_.

Phil lowered his head and sucked fervently on the back of Dan’s neck, biting and licking and most definitely leaving a mark. “Dan, Dan, Dan,” he chanted, and they were both trembling with need, climbing higher and higher, closer and closer.

“Please Phil! Fuck!” Dan gasped, and Phil’s forehead was resting on his back, and he could feel Phil’s breaths against him. “So close!”

Phil’s hand sped up, as did his hips, and Dan was slipping against the wet ground, and he looked up into the mirror, watched as Phil pounded into him, fucked him so hard that he slid forward, inch by inch. And Phil looked up too, watched as he fucked Dan, and their eyes met in the mirror, both sporting the same pleasure filled, loving look, and it was enough.

With a final squeeze to Dan’s cock, and a perfectly aimed thrust, Dan was coming, his mouth falling open and gasps and moans wrenching themselves from his mouth, whining as his orgasm thundered through him. His body was alight, on fire, and he was shaking and shivering and Phil was coming too, exploding inside him and moaning his name, holding him so close, so tight. They were gasping and panting, their bodies vibrating with pleasure, and finally it was over, perfect and good. Dan was so warm, and water was streaming in rivulets down his body. Hair was in his eyes, and distantly, he realized that Phil was carefully pulling out of him, and that his body ached.

“Holy shit,” Dan breathed, and Phil smiled warmly, kissing his way from the bottom of Dan’s spine to the top of his neck. They both stood up, wrapping around each other under the stream of water once more. It was warm and pleasant, and Phil’s arms were strong around him. Dan pressed his face into Phil’s chest, and tentatively flicked his tongue over the taller boy’s nipple.

“Don’t,” Phil groaned. “Not unless you’re ready for a round two.”

Dan laughed, and raised to his tip toes to instead kiss Phil on the mouth.

“I love you,” Dan said, and Phil hefted him up, so that his hands were under Dan’s thighs, holding him up, while Dan wrapped his arms and legs around Phil.

“I love you too,” Phil replied, and he kissed Dan again, as water cascading down around them.

Soon they were climbing into Phil’s bed, pulling the comforter over themselves and lying wrapped in each other’s arms. They slowly fell asleep, and Dan spent his first of many nights in the Slytherin dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! next saturday i'll be uploading the epilogue, so i'll save all my soppy thank yous until then, but i really hope you've enjoyed it so far! :D <3


	16. Epilogue

“Shh!” Dan giggled as they closed the door behind them, wincing slightly at the echoing bang and hoping no one had heard.

“Come on,” Phil laughed, linking their hands and dragging them toward the edge of the pool sized bath. It was the prefect bathroom, and they only had the password because Phil had threatened a fifth year prefect for it. Of course, he’d told Dan that he’d simply asked.

Phil turned on several taps, watching as the water rose faster than it should have (magic!) and turned towards Dan. “You sure you’re not afraid to get in the pool?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Dan replied with a roll of his eyes, his hands coming out to shove at his boyfriend.

“What if you drown?”

“You won’t let me.”

“Oh yeah? What if our entire relationship has just been a plot for me to get you into this pool and let you drown? I am a Slytherin, you know,” Phil informed.

“Somehow I don’t think you’d have dated me for an entire year simply to kill me at the end of it,” Dan said with a shrug. “Besides, without me, who would you ever have sex with?”

“I’m a good looking guy, Dan,” Phil said sagely. “I’m sure I could rope somebody in.”

“I’d be less sure, if I were you.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, I don’t think anyone would want to have sex with you when your ghost ex-boyfriend is constantly hanging around,” Dan said, and Phil laughed, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom.

He stepped closer to his boyfriend, running his hands down his arms, sliding them up under his shirt.

“Trying to undress me?” Dan joked, sounding a bit breathless already. Phil pinched his nipples, smirking as Dan stifled a gasp, his eyes already glazing over.

“When aren’t I?” Phil replied, which Dan didn’t even dignify with a response. His mouth was slightly open, his hand gripping Phil’s wrists as he continued to play with Dan’s nipples.

Phil continued with the whole taking-off-Dan’s-clothes thing, and it took Dan a moment to come back to his senses and let go of Phil so he could get on with it. Dan was blushing slightly, likely at how easy it was for him to get wound up.

Taking Dan’s clothes off for him was probably one of Phil’s favorite things to do. He liked to drag his hands all over him as he took of his clothes, and Dan would stand there and let him, shivering at the feelings racing through his body.

Once Dan was undressed, Phil was stripping off his own clothes carelessly. He pulled Dan into an embrace, looping his arms around the shorter boy, while Dan looked up at him, a small grin tugging at his lips.

“I love you,” Phil informed, and Dan laughed, pressing his face into Phil’s bare chest.

“ _Okay_ , soppy nerd,” he replied.

Phil squished him harder to his chest, and Dan gasped as the breath was forced out of him.

“Tell me you love me.”

“No!” Dan laughed, digging his fingers into Phil’s side. The ticklish feeling made him jump away from his boyfriend, who took to running to the other side of the pool, giggling.

“Get back here!” Phil demanded. “Give me your love!”

“Never!”

Standing on opposite sides of the pool, Phil started edging to the left. Dan moved in the opposite direction. Seeing that he had no other choice, Phil snatched his wand from his pile of clothes, and pointed it at Dan.

“Hey! No wands!” he shouted, obviously knowing he’d been bested by his much smarter boyfriend.

Phil ignored him, and cast a spell that would slow him down. Dan glared as he tried to run away, his limbs moving like he was running through syrup. Phil laughed, and sprinted easily around the edge of the pool.

“You suck,” Dan panted, still trying to run away. His brow was creased in determination, his hands balled into fists.

“If you want me to,” Phil said with a shrug, and Dan rolled his eyes.

“Fuck you!”

“Maybe later.”

Dan growled, and Phil ended it by wrapping his arms around the smaller boy, and dragging them both into the pool.

They resurfaced, Dan gasping for air and calling him all sorts of names. The pool wasn’t too deep, and Phil’s head was above water, but Dan had to stand on his tip toes and tilt his head all the way back to breath, and that was just at the shallow end.

Phil reached out for his struggling boyfriend and pulled him against him, letting Dan wrap his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck.

“Still gonna let me teach you how to swim?” Phil asked. Dan hummed.

“I think I have a better idea.”

“What?”

In response, Dan grinded down against him, and Phil’s gasp echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls and the water.

“Good idea.”

And it always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’d just like to thank everyone who’s ever said anything nice to me about awm! it honestly means so much to me to know that people have read this and enjoyed it and it’s just so incredible to know that something i created had the power to make people happy (if only for the 15 minutes it took to read the chapter i posted every saturday). this is the longest thing i’ve ever written (69,000 words! also i didn’t plan that, and i almost feel like i should write a thousand more words just to make it an even 70, but 69 is too good to be true). also! please feel free to message me about awm at any time (even if it’s been a long time since i posted it) because i’m sure it’ll always fill me with the same excited feeling. i really hope everyone enjoyed the story, and thanks again! <3
> 
> i’ve already started my next chaptered fic, and it’s called The Blind Boy. the first chapter is out, and i’ll be posting the chapters for that story on saturdays now!


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